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LUCILE 

THE TORCH BEARER 


BY 

ELIZABETH M. DUFFIELD 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
M. P. TAYLOR 



NEW YORK 

SULLY AND KLEINTEICH 




Copyright, 1915, by 
SULLY AND KLEINTEICH 


QGT 15 1915 

©CI.A414061 

hi I 




FOREWORD 





The organization of Camp-fire Girls, although of re- 
cent origin, has had an astonishing growth and bids fair 
to rival the Boy Scout movement, with whose aims and 
ideals it has many things in common. Its watchword 
of “Wo-He-Lo,” framed from the first two letters of j 

Work, Health and Love, clearly indicates the vigorous, j 

noble womanhood it seeks to attain for its members. 1 

The Camp-fire is the symbol of the happy, outdoor life j 

with its wholesome activities, and the various grades of \ 

Wood-gatherer, Fire-maker and Torch-bearer are a spur t 

to the girls’ ambition. It has its badges, pledges, cheers | 

and watchwords, all tinged with the air of beauty and j 

romance that appeal so strongly to young girls. Noth- j 

ing but good can come from such an organization, and r 

it is the hope of the author that the story of Lucile and i 

her comrades may stimulate the formation of similar ^ 

Camp-fire lodges in every town and city of the country. | 

E. M. D. ! 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

I. 

The Great Idea 


11 . 

Captured by the Enemy . . . 

i6 

III. 

The Camp-Fire Oath .... 

• 30 

IV. 

“The Poor Little Rich Girl” . 

. 46 

V. 

Toward the Goal 

• 59 

VI. 

A Glorious Surprise .... 

. 72 

VII. 

Little Black Rascal .... 

• 95 

VIII. 

The Rival Camp 

• 115 

IX. 

“Many a Slip” 

. 130 

X. 

It’s Fairyland 

. 144 

XI. 

Almost a Tragedy 

. 161 

XII. 

The Fury of the Storm . 

• 175 

XIII. 

Too Curious 

. 192 

XIV. 

A Timely Rescue 

. 213 

XV. 

The Panther Springs . . . , 

00 

XVI. 

Hearts United 

• 251 

XVII. 

“Like Other Girls” .... 

. 260 

XVIII. 

Victory! ' • • 










I 


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; • 



V 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


‘Tn three powerful strokes it forged ahead.” 

(See page 289.) Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

‘‘Margaret led them from one to the other 
of her favorites.” 56 

“That light that has been given to me I de- / 

sire to pass, undimmed, to others.” 160 

“For a few breathless moments, they thought 
that their signal would pass unnoticed.”. . 218 




/ 


CHAPTER I 

THE GREAT IDEA 

“Jessie, Jessie, the most wonderful thing has hap- 
pened! You’d never guess it in a hundred years!” 

“Well, since 1 haven’t a hundred years to waste, I 
guess I won’t try,” came the lazy reply, and Jessie 
reached out her hand for another bon-bon. 

Lucile Payton tossed her pretty head impatiently. 
“Don’t be a stupid old bear,” she said. “Here I’ve 
run all the way from Marjorie’s to tell you the news, 
and you won’t stop reading your old book long 
enough to listen to me. That’s gratitude for you !” 

“Nay, you wrong me,” Jessie assured her. “See, 
even as you accuse me of base ingratitude, I lay aside 

the offending novel and beg, nay, implore ” 

“If you will just put off begging and imploring 
until to-morrow morning,” Lucile interrupted, ^T may 

be able to say my say this afternoon. If not ” 

“Go ahead, I’m all ears,” said Jessie, as she helped 
herself to another chocolate. 


I 


2 


Lucile 


“Well,” began Lucile, “I was passing Marjorie 
Hanlan’s house this afternoon on the way home and 
Marjie called me up on the porch. Then she told me 
that she, Dorothy Davis, Evelyn Ferris and — oh, 
who was the other one ” 

“Ruth Cashaw is Evelyn’s chum,” Jessie suggested, 
helpfully. 

“Yes, she’s the one. Well, she said they were 
thinking of starting a club of camp-fire girls. And 
the best thing about it is that they want us to join. 
Do you suppose we can ?” 

For once Jessie forgot candy in her excitement. 

“Of course, we can,” she cried. “Oh, Lucy, that 
will be great! Why, just the other day, mother was 
saying she wished something of the kind would be 
started here. She said she thought it was a splendid 
idea. Oh, I’m so glad! How long do you suppose 
it would take?” 

“You never can tell. It may take a week and it 
may take a month. You see, first of all we have to 
get some one to act as guardian of the fire. The girls 
didn’t seem to have any idea whom they would ask, 
until I suggested Miss Howland.” 

“Yes, she’s just the one,” Jessie broke in. “She’d 


The Great Idea 3 

join in the fun and have as good a time as any of us 
girls. Didn’t they like the idea ?” 

‘‘Like it ! Why, they took to it like ducks to water ! 
It’s funny they didn’t think of it before.” 

“Isn’t it,” Jessie agreed. “Then, if we get her 
consent, can’t we start right in?” 

“Oh, no,” Lucile shook her head decidedly. “First 
she has to send to National Headquarters for her 
license. Then we all have to swear to obey the camp- 
fire law and then — well, then I suppose we are camp- 
fire girls.” 

“You don’t seem to be very sure about it,” Jessie 
remarked. “What is the camp-fire law anyway?” 

“I don’t know exactly,” Lucile admitted, “but the 
girls gave me a book that tells all about it.” 

“Let’s see, we might as well look at it, now.” 

“Don’t you think we’d better wait till we have more 
time,” Lucile suggested. “Oh, I have an idea ” 

“Wonderful,” Jessie cried. “Tell me about it be- 
fore you forget it.” 

“Put on your things and come over to the house 
with me,” Lucile went on, calmly ignoring the sar- 
casm. “You can stay over night, can’t you?” 

“I guess so. Wait a minute till I write a note to 


4 Lucile 

mother. You never can tell when she will reach home 
when she goes to see Aunt Edna.*' 

The note was soon written and the pair started out 
merrily, so elated over the new project that they felt, 
as Lucile said, as if anybody by just looking at them 
must know that there was something unusual afoot. 

They formed a striking contrast, these two, Lucile 
with her dark curls and pretty, piquant face, never 
quiet for two consecutive minutes of the day ; and Jes- 
sie, blue-eyed and blond-haired, taking life with an 
easy-going indifference that worried her mother and 
aggravated her friends. Jessie’s motto was — *‘Never 
do to-day what you can do to-morrow.” And yet, the 
two girls were sworn friends, drawn together, per- 
haps, by that very dissimilarity. 

As they paused before the door, Jessie put into 
words the awful thought that had been haunting 
Lucile all the way home. 

“Suppose,” she said in a hushed voice. “Suppose 
your mother won’t let you.” 

“Don’t,” cried Lucile, clapping her hands to her 
ears. “Don’t say another word, or I won’t have the 
courage to go in. I’m sure she’ll consent.” 

“Glad you’re so positive,” Jessie murmured, gloom- 


The Great Idea 


5 


ily. But she found herself talking to the empty air. 
Lucile was flying down the hall toward the closed door 
of the sitting-room. 

With scant ceremony she burst open the door and 
disclosed to view a very handsome, very distinguished 
lady, reclining gracefully in an easy chair near the 
window. 

“Mother, mother,’' Lucile cried, flinging her arms 
around her mother’s neck. “I have something very 
important to ask you and you must say yes before I 
ask it. Please,” she coaxed, pressing her pretty face 
against her mother’s. 

“I can’t very well say anything until you stop chok- 
ing me,” said Mrs. Payton, a shade impatiently. 
“There, that’s better,” she added as Lucile loosened 
her clasp. “Now tell me what you want.” 

“Won’t you say yes, first,” Lucile pleaded, although 
some of the sunshine had gone from her face. 

Mrs. Payton settled back with an air of bored good- 
nature. “I don’t suppose it will do any harm to say 
yes,” she said. “But I can’t promise that I won’t take 
it back, later. Now say what you have to say, honey, 
but be quick, for it’s almost time for dinner.” 

So Lucile told of their plans and hopes and all she 


6 Lucile 

knew of the origin of the Camp-Fire Girls while her 
mother listened, idly turning the pages of a book she 
had been reading. 

‘‘And so, mother,’’ Lucile concluded, “you see why 
I was so very anxious for you to say yes. You won’t 
take it back, now, will you ?” 

“No, I don’t. see why I should,” Mrs. Payton an- 
swered, absently. “It seems to me that the idea is 
rather good, and if you can persuade Miss Howland 
to act as your adviser I shan’t object to your plans in 
the least. But, now,” with a wave of her hand that 
definitely dismissed the topic, “run along and get ready 
for dinner; you’ll have just time.” 

There was nothing to do but obey, so, after kissing 
her mother gratefully, Lucile went in search of Jessie. 
But some of her enthusiasm had gone and there was a 
dull, persistent ache at her heart. 

“I don’t see why I should feel this way,” she rea- 
soned to herself. “I have mother’s consent and every- 
thing’s going just right and yet, — oh, I can’t help it.” 
Although she herself scarcely realized it, what she 
most needed was a mother’s full understanding and 
sympathy, and this she had never received from Mrs. 
Payton, who was too engrossed with her numerous 


The Great Idea 


7 

social obligations to spend much time or thought upon 
her children. 

Lucile found Jessie curled up in a window-seat in 
the library, contentedly reading “Ivanhoe.” 

“Well,*^ she said, as Lucile entered, ^Vhat’s the 
news?” Then as she caught sight of her friend’s 
troubled face, the book fell with a crash and she cried 
out, “Oh, Lucy, you’re never going to tell me that 
you can’t ” 

“Oh, no,” Lucile assured her. “Everything is all 
O. K. Mother likes the idea and thinks it will be a 
good thing for both of us.” 

“Then will you kindly explain why you come in here 
looking as if you had just lost your last friend 
and scaring me almost to death,” said Jessie, reproach- 
fully. “Why you ought to be the happiest person 
in the world — besides me,” she added as an after- 
thought. 

“So I am,” said Lucile. “I don’t see why I should- 
n’t be,” she added, defiantly. “Let’s look over the 
book till dinner’s ready.” 

So they did and Jessie, who more than half guessed 
what was troubling her friend, talked with such infec- 
tious enthusiasm, that the two girls were soon in gales 


8 Lucile 

of merriment. In the midst of their fun, the door 
opened and a hearty voice called out, 

“What’s the joke, girls? Can’t you let me in on it?” 

“Oh, Dad,” Lucile cried, running to him. “I’m so 
glad you’ve come. We’re going to be camp-fire girls.” 

“How are you, Jessie? Camp-fire girls, you say? 
What’s that? Anything like a suffragette?” he asked, 
with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Well, hardly,” Lucile scouted the idea, contemptu- 
ously. “Come over here and we’ll tell you about it so 
that you can never make such a mistake again.” 

So, with his arm about each of the girls, Mr. Pay- 
ton listened attentively to Lucile’s story. “And you 
actually intend to learn to cook,” he asked, incredu- 
lously, when she had finished, “and wash dishes 
and mend and darn stockings — why, my dear little 
girls, where do you expect to glean all this knowl- 
edge ?” 

“Why home, I suppose,” Lucile answered, rather 
doubtfully. “Mary will show me how to cook and I 
can darn my own stockings and I don’t suppose Mary 
will object to my washing the dishes now and then.” 

“All that is easy enough,” sighed Jessie, “but the 
really hard thing will be to go without candy and ice- 


The Great Idea 9 

cream for a whole month. I don’t believe I can ever 
do it.” 

Mr. Payton laughed. “That will be hard on you, 
Jessie, won’t it? They ought to give you double credit 
for such sacrifice. Just the same,” he added, gravely, 
“it will be the best thing in the world for both of 
you.” 

“As long as you feel that way about it. Dad,” Lucile 
broke in, mischievously, “you certainly won’t object to 
eating a few heavy biscuits now and then.” 

“You don’t really expect ” he began, in feigned 

dismay, and then added soberly, “I thought that 
camp-fire girls were supposed to serve only light 
biscuits.” 

“So they are, but I guess even camp-fire girls have 
to make some mistakes when they’re learning. Oh, 
there’s the dinner gong. Come on, both of you,” she 
cried, merrily. “Perhaps this is the last good meal 
you’ll have in some time, so you’d better make the most 
of it.” 

“That we will,” said Mr. Payton, rising with alac- 
rity. “I hope Mary has spread herself to-night.” 


“I wonder what can be detaining Philip,” Mrs. 


10 


Lucile 


Payton remarked, when they were all seated around 
the table. ‘'He is generally home before this.’* 

“I saw him in Lawrence field this afternoon,” Lu- 
cile volunteered. “He was playing baseball with some 
other boy scouts. He was pitching, and I tell you he 
did some good work.” 

“That boy of ours is some baseball player, and Pm 
proud of him,” said Mr. Payton. “He has some 
of the finest curves I ever saw. He ought to make 
his mark on the college diamond some of these 
days.” 

“What’s that. Dad,” came a clear voice behind them, 
and the object of discussion took his seat at the table. 
Without waiting for an answer, he promptly fell to 
on the tempting viands before him. 

“Make believe this doesn’t taste good,” he said, con- 
tentedly. “I’m starved.” 

“Have a good game this afternoon, Phil?” Mr. 
Payton asked. 

“Great,” said Phil. “We played the Greys and ran 
rings around them. I tell you they’re not in our class ! 
What’s up with the girls?” he asked, a moment later. 
“They look as if they had just had a million left 
them.” 


The Great Idea 


11 


“It’s better than that,” Mr. Payton laughed. 
“They’ve decided to form a club of camp-fire girls.” 

Phil’s face showed interest. “Is that straight?” he 
asked. 

“Well, rather,” Lucile asserted, staunchly. “It 
seems to me a boy scout ought to sympathize with us.” 

“So I do. When are you going to start in?” 

“As soon as Miss Howland can get her license to 
act as guardian of the fire,” Jessie answered. 

Phil’s commendation was hearty. “That will be 
bully,” he said. “Miss Howland’s a jolly good sort.” 

And so she was. Several years ago when Miss 
Howland was a very young girl there had come to 
Burleigh a handsome youn^ civil engineer with a 
commission to build a bridge across West River. For 
a year, while the bridge had been in process of con- 
struction, it had been whispered through Burleigh that 
when Hamilton Wescott returned to New York, Helen 
would go with him as his bride. But when at last the 
bridge was built and the bleak winter set in, young 
Wescott had gone back to New York and Helen had 
remained in Burleigh. If she had felt any regret at 
his going, she had hidden it in her own heart. Since 
then she had become deeply interested in all things 


12 Lucile 

charitable and had given freely of her large fortune 
toward their support. Cheerful, generous, sympa- 
thetic and, withal, beautiful, she had become the idol of 
all the young people in town. So, when Phil said 
warmly, though a trifle inelegantly, that Miss Howland 
was a “jolly good sort” he only expressed the general 
admiration and respect in which she was held. 

After dinner the girls slipped off to Lucile’s room 
to have their first good look at the camp-fire book. 
Jessie stretched herself comfortably on the divan and 
Lucile sat beside her in an easy chair. 

“You read and I’ll listen,” suggested Jessie with 
a yawn. 

“Rather an unfair division of labor, don’t you 
think?” 

“I should say there wasn’t any division,” drawled 
Jessie, lazily. “You see, I know how much you like to 
read and I wouldn’t deprive you of that pleasure for 
the world.” 

“Your kindness is appreciated,” Lucile scoffed. 
“However, I’ll read to you if you will promise on 
your word of honor that you won’t go to sleep. Last 
time I read four chapters before I found out that you 
were asleep and I don’t intend to do it again.” 


The Great Idea 


13 


“You won't have to. I promise to stay awake." 

“All right. First we have to learn the law by heart. 
Here it is : 

“ ‘It is my desire to become a camp-fire girl and to 
obey the law of the camp fire, which is to — 

Seek beauty, 

Give service. 

Pursue knowledge. 

Be trustworthy. 

Hold on to health. 

Glorify work. 

Be happy. 

“ ‘This law of the Camp Fire I will strive to follow.' 
There, now, you have the law. Do you think you can 
live up to it ?" Lucile asked. 

“I don't know about you," Jessie answered hum- 
bly, “but I know I can’t — not right away, at any rate. 
We'll just have to do our best, even if it isn't much 
good. Go on, let’s hear some more." 

“Well, it seems the watchword is ‘Wohelo’ and it’s 
made up of the first two letters of the words work, 
health and love. The first rank is that of ‘wood- 
gatherer,’ but she doesn’t seem to have much to do. 


14 


Lucile 


Then, there's the fire-maker and — oh, Jessie, you 
ought to see the list of things she is supposed to do. 
It's about a mile long !" 

“Please don't read it to-night, then," Jessie begged. 
“Perhaps the dawn will give me courage." 

“I surely wouldn’t read it to you, now — you’d go 
to sleep before I could get half way through." 

“There you go maligning me again," Jessie com- 
plained, “when here I am as wide awake as you ” 

“Listen," Lucile interrupted. “This is what the 
wood-gatherer has to say when she is about to become 
a fire-maker — 

‘As fuel is brought to the fire. 

So I purpose to bring 
My strength. 

My ambition. 

My joy 

And my sorrow 
To the fire 
Of humankind. 

For I will tend 

As my fathers have tended. 

And my fathers' fathers 
Since time began. 


15 


The Great Idea 

The fire that is called 
The love of man for man, 

The love of man for God/ 

I wonder,'’ Lucile mused, letting the book drop from 
her fingers, ‘T wonder if we will ever become fire 
makers." * 

“Perhaps," said Jessie, “if we live long enough." 

There came a tap at the door and Mrs. Payton en- 
tered. “It's time that you children were in bed," she 
said. “You would better put away the book for to- 
night. You will have plenty of time to look it over 
to-morrow. Good night. Sleep well," and with a 
rustle of silk she was gone, leaving behind her the 
faintest suggestion of delicate perfume. 

A few minutes later the girls tumbled into the big 
bed and pulled the snowy sheets over them with a sigh 
of content. 

“Oh, this feels good," Lucile confided to her pil- 
low. “I almost feel as if — I — could — sleep — to-night." 

“I'll get there first," challenged Jessie, sleepily. 

But there was no reply and soon the room was quiet, 
save for the ticking of the busy little clock on the table 
and the doleful cry of an owl, as it flew away through 
the night. 


CHAPTER II 


CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY 

Early the next morning, Lucile opened sleepy eyes 
on a sun-dazzled world. Outside her windows, 
the birds twittered joyfully and the air seemed alive 
with the busy hum of insects. An impertinent robin, 
bubbling over with pride and joy, balanced him- 
self on the window-sill and poured his merry chal- 
lenge into the room. ‘‘Cheer up, cheer up,” he called 
and then with a saucy flirt of his wings, flew off 
through the perfume-laden air in search of his 
mate. 

“It’s waste of good time to stay in a stuffy room 
when it’s so beautiful outside. Just wait a minute, 
Mr. Robin, and I’ll be with you out there in the sun- 
shine. Oh, what a glorious day it is,” she cried, as she 
slipped her feet into bedroom slippers and crossed the 
room to the open window. “It makes you feel like 
living.” 

“What makes you feel like living?” queried a sleepy 
voice from the direction of the bed. “I should think 

i6 


Captured by the Enemy 17 

you would feel a good deal more like sleeping at this 
unearthly hour. I know I do/^ and Jessie pounded 
her pillow, vindictively, and turned over for another 
nap. 

“Oh, that’s to be expected,” Lucile answered, dryly. 
“Whoever heard of Jessie getting up at six o’clock in 
the morning? However, I will tell you one thing,” 
she added, severely. “You’ll never be a camp-fire girl 
if you don’t learn to get up early.” 

Jessie sat up suddenly and rubbed her eyes. “That 
reminds me of a dream I had last night,” she said. 
“I dreamed I was a torch bearer and went around 
burning up everything in sight. They had all the fire 
engines in the city on duty, but they couldn’t seem to 
put out the fire. It was the most vivid dream I ever 
had.” 

“It must have been,” Lucile sniffed. “If Miss How- 
land knows when she’s well off, she’ll never make you 
a torch bearer. I guess there’s not much danger, 
though,” she added, slyly. “You have to be wide 
awake to attain that exalted rank.” 

“Nay, you are mistaken,” Jessie corrected. “All I 
have to do to become a torch bearer is, as you have 
seen, to go to sleep. But, seriously, what is the idea of 


18 


Lucile 


getting up so early. You surely don’t expect to get 
breakfast,” she asked, anxiously. 

“Hardly that,” Lucile assured her. “Although, on 
a pinch I might scramble some eggs and make the 
coffee or chocolate.” 

“Ten to one, the eggs would be burned and the 
coffee boiled,” Jessie yawned. 

“Probably you would be like the girl who salted 
the eggs while they were in the shell, and then 
wondered why they tasted fresh,” retorted Lucile. 
“You can go to sleep again if you want to, but I’m 
going to get dressed and take a walk before break- 
fast. Being healthy is one of the camp-fire laws, you 
know.” 

“Oh well, I suppose I’ll have to get up, although I 
feel as if I’d just gone to bed,” Jessie complained, as 
she sat up on the edge of the bed. “Without any ex- 
aggeration, I’d give ten dollars — if I had it — to any 
one who would give me permission to sleep for the 
next three hours.” 

“For ten dollars. I’d give you permission to sleep 
three years,” Lucile replied, as she wrestled with an 
unruly lock of hair. 

“Mercenary child,” Jessie reproved her. “Now that 


Captured by the Enemy 19 

I know your weakness, I’m very glad I haven’t the ten 
dollars,” she added, virtuously. 

“In the words of Miss Randolph,” said Lucile, 
quoting their English teacher, “if you talked less, you 
would accomplish more.” 

Jessie reached for the pillow, but Lucile was already 
disappearing through the door. “Come down when 
you’re ready,” she called through the keyhole. “I’ll 
be in the garden.” 

As Lucile emerged from the house into the warm, 
welcoming sunshine, she uttered a cry of delight. Over 
night a miracle had been wrought. The rose bushes, 
which had hitherto held only tightly closed buds, had 
been touched with the magic wand of summer and 
blossomed in golden, white and scarlet glory. 

“Oh, you beauties,” cried Lucile, delightedly, as 
she buried her nose deep in the heart of a great 
Jacques rose. “How did you ever get so beautiful all 
in one night ?” 

For a few happy minutes she went the rounds of 
the garden. Never before had she been up so early 
in the morning, and the experience was delightfully 
novel. She had heard birds sing before, but never 
as they did on that morning of wonders. Even the 


20 


Lucile 


grass looked greener, and the flowers were sprinkled 
with tiny diamonds that shone and glistened in the 
dazzling sun. All Nature was joyously, wonderfully 
awake. 

“Don't you think I did well?" Jessie’s voice broke 
in on her reverie. “I dressed in fifteen minutes by 
the clock. Oh," as she caught sight of the roses. 
“Did you ever see anything so pretty?" 

“Aren’t they great," Lucile answered. “Yesterday 
they were buds and to-day they are full-blown roses. 
Look at that big tea-rose over there." 

A little while longer the girls lingered in the gar- 
den and then, selecting each a rose from their fa- 
vorite bushes, they sauntered out on the road for a 
short walk before breakfast. 

As they passed a pretty ivy-covered house a small, 
high voice called out the single word, “Hello." 

Jessie started. “What’s that?" she cried. “It 
sounded like a parrot." 

“You are not very complimentary," laughed Lucile. 
“It’s little Kenneth Weston and he’s just three years 
old. This is sudden friendship on his part, though. 
He generally runs away if you look at him." 

“Suppose we go and see if he runs away," Jessie 


21 


Captured by the Enemy 

suggested. “All I can make out from here is a very 
curly head and a pair of blue eyes. Fd like to see the 
rest, provided, of course, that the young gentleman is 
willing.” 

“That’s the question under discussion,” replied Lu- 
cile. “It’s more than probable that he isn’t willing. 
However, we can but try, so come along,” and she led 
the way up the steps. 

Although little Kenneth was brave when protected 
by a screened-in porch, it must be confessed that he 
was very much of a coward when any vandals threat- 
ened to invade the sacred precincts of his fortress. So, 
now, when the girls ascended the steps with the evi- 
dent intention of entering, he toddled post haste to his 
mother, who had just come out on the porch. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Weston,” Lucile called out. 
“This is my friend, Jessie Sanderson. We were pass- 
ing the house,” she went on, when they were seated 
in the broad, wicker arm chairs, “and Jessie caught 
sight of Kenneth on the porch, and thought she’d like 
to have a little closer look at him.” 

“But I’m afraid I’m going to be disappointed, after 
all,” Jessie mourned, in a voice designed to move the 
young son and heir of the Westons, who was busily 


22 


Lucile 


engaged at that moment in keeping his mother between 
him and the visitors. “Why I can’t even see as much 
of him now as I did before.” 

“Kenneth, honey, don’t act like that,” coaxed Mrs. 
Weston, as she disengaged his fingers and drew him 
to her lap. “Here are these two nice young ladies 
come to see you and you try to hide behind mother’s 
skirt. That isn’t a bit nice.” 

Just then some one called to Mrs. Weston from 
within the house and she placed “Ken,” as his father 
fondly called him, in a chair with the admonition 
to “sit still and be a good boy till mother comes 
back.” 

The girls looked at one another and Jessie said in 
a stage whisper: “Perhaps he would like us better if 
we didn’t say anything.” 

“No, that would probably scare him,” Lucile tele- 
graphed back. “If you will leave him to me, I think 
I can have him talking to us in a few minutes.” 

“Maybe you can, but I doubt it,” Jessie answered, 
dubiously. “Go ahead, though. Nothing could be 
worse than this awful silence.” 

“You are up early this morning, Kenneth, aren’t 
you,” Lucile began sweetly, by way of an opening. 


Captured by the Enemy 23 

‘‘No-o/' Kenneth denied, twisting his neck to such 
an extent in the desperate effort to get as far as pos- 
sible from Lucile that Jessie afterward declared “she 
thought it must break.” 

“Aren’t you?” Lucile asked, in surprise. “Why I 
thought you were.” 

“No-o-o,” and this time the denial was more em- 
phatic than before. 

Lucile began on another tack. “Oh, say, Kenneth,” 
she said, with a fine show of enthusiasm, “have you 
seen my kitty — ^the pretty, gray one?” 

Kenneth was interested. “Ye-es,” he said, shyly 
venturing to look at his questioner. “Ye-es, I saw 
him.” 

Lucile shot a triumphant glance at Jessie. “Did 
you see what a funny little gray nose he has?” she 
went on, artfully. 

Kenneth’s shyness vanished and he nearly fell out 
of his chair in his excitement. “Ye-es,” he said. “I 
saw funny ’ittle g’ay nose. Is it oor kitty?” and his 
big blue eyes regarded her with a new interest and 
respect. 

“Uh-huh,” Lucile assented. “We’ve had him for 
almost seven months now; just think of that.” 


24 Lucile 

Kenneth considered. He had a rather vague idea as 
to just what seven months was, but then it didn’t mat- 
ter — surely a gray kitten was more interesting than 
seven months. He looked up at Lucile with a shy 
little smile that made her want to hug him. “He walks 
so funny, too,” he chuckled. ‘‘Just like dis,” and 
slipping from his chair, he crept on all fours to the 
end of the porch and then sat back on his heels with 
a gurgle of delight. “Dat’s de way,” he informed 
them. 

“Isn’t he a dear?” Jessie cried. “You win, Lucy.” 

Just then Mrs. Weston appeared in the doorway 
and took in the situation with a glance. “What has 
he been doing now?” she asked, smilingly. “Playing 
automobile ?” 

“No,” Kenneth volunteered, as he climbed into his 
mother’s lap. “I was dust showin’ dem how funny de 
’ittle g’ay kitten walked.” 

“Yes, we had quite a demonstration,” Jessie 
laughed. “He seems to be very fond of animals.” 

“Yes, he has always been interested in them,” Mrs. 
Weston replied. “Even when he was a very little baby 
he used to prize a rubber dog I bought him above all 
his other possessions. When he gets to be a big boy 


Captured by the Enemy 25 

he shall have a real live doggie,” she promised, strok- 
ing the golden head lovingly. 

‘‘Some day,” Lucile invited, as she rose to go, ‘‘he 
must come over and see our kitten. I’m sure puss 
would be delighted.” 

“Wanna do now,” Kenneth accepted, eagerly. 
“Muvver, let me do now.” 

“Not now, honey. Some day you may go over and 
play with him to your heart’s content; but now you 
will have to have your breakfast. I hope you will 
come over again, soon,” she said, cordially, turning to 
the girls. “You have made friends with Kenneth in 
a remarkably short time.” 

“We surely will,” Lucile answered, heartily. “Good- 
by, Ken.” 

“We’ll give your love to the little gray kitten,” Jes- 
sie added. 

When they had gone a good half block from the 
house, they could still hear the plaintive wail, “I wan- 
na do now. Wanna do see ’ittle g’ay kitten.” 

“You surely did hit the nail on the head when you 
brought out that kitten talk, Lucy,” Jessie commended 
her. “At first I thought he would never say anything 
but, ‘no-o,’ he seemed such a shy little thing.” 


26 


Lucile 


‘‘Oh, you can almost always get them interested in 
animals,” answered Lucile. “To change the subject, 
what time do you suppose it is?” 

“Haven’t the slightest idea, but I imagine it must be 
getting pretty late,” Jessie answered. “Shouldn’t won- 
der if we had better turn back.” 

“Guess so,” agreed Lucile. “We want to get to 
school this morning, because Edith said she might see 
Miss Howland last night, and if she did she expected 
to ask her to become guardian of the fire. I’m dying 
to hear what she has to say.” 

“Suppose Evelyn didn’t see her last night?” Jessie 
questioned. 

“Then we are all to go around to her house this 
afternoon after school and find out for ourselves,” Lu- 
cile answered. “Come on, let’s hurry.” 

“If you could only know how hungry I am,” said 
Jessie, gaily, “you would realize there is no need to 
ask me to hurry. I feel as if I could eat the side of a 
house.” 

Although there was no side of a house awaiting 
them on their return, they managed to content them- 
selves fairly well with the tempting substitute Mary 
provided. 


Captured by the Enemy 27 

When Mr. Payton saw the two, bright, rosy faces, 
he nodded approvingly. “If being prospective camp- 
fire girls includes rising early in the morning and 
brings out the roses this way,” he said, gaily, “then I 
am heart and soul for the cause.” 

After breakfast the girls packed their books and 
raced off to school, anxious to learn the latest news. 
As they were entering the school yard, warm and out 
of breath with their long walk, a short, fair-haired girl 
detached herself from a group and came flying toward 
them. 

“Hello, girls,” she cried, and then, in answer to 
their unspoken question, “Yes, I saw Miss Howland 
last night and ” 

“What,” cried Lucile and Jessie with one voice. 

“She said she would be very glad to accept,” Evelyn, 
for it -was she, announced, triumphantly. 

By this time the rest of the girls had crowded 
around and were all talking at once. From the con- 
fused babble the only expressions distinguishable were, 
“Oh, isn’t it great,” or, “Suppose she had refused!” 
At last Lucile made her voice heard above the rest. 

“When is she going to send for the license?” she 
asked, practically. 


28 Lucile 

For a moment there was silence, and all the girls 
looked to Evelyn for an answer. 

‘‘She said she would send to headquarters first thing 
this morning,’' that important young person answered, 
promptly. “And oh, girls,” she went on, with a new 
burst of enthusiasm, “just think what that means. 
Why, in a few weeks’ time we ought to be able to call 
ourselves really and truly camp-fire girls.” 

“That’s all very well,” Ruth Cashaw, who was of 
a rather pessimistic turn of mind, remarked, gloomily. 
“But those things usually take longer than you imag- 
ine. I’d be surprised if everything were arranged 
within a month.” 

“Don’t be a wet-blanket, Ruth,” Lucile admonished, 
gaily, “I guess it won’t be as bad as all that.” 

“Even if we did have to wait a month it might be a 
blessing in disguise,” added Jessie, philosophically. 
“You always enjoy your blessings more when you 
have to wait -for them.” 

“Hear, hear,” Marjorie Hanlan exclaimed, with a 
merry laugh. “Jessie has the right idea.” 

“Dorothy’s late this morning, isn’t she,” Lucile re- 
marked suddenly. “It’s almost time for the bell.” 

“I don’t think she will be here to-day,” Marjorie 


Captured by the Enemy 29 

volunteered. “I was over at her house last night and 
Mrs. Davis said she was feeling so ill that she prob- 
ably wouldn’t be able to come to school to-day. I hope 
she isn’t very bad,” she added, anxiously, for the two 
had always been very close friends. 

“So do I,” came in a chorus from all the girls, and 
Lucile added lightly, to cover her real concern, “I 
think we’d better drop around this afternoon and re- 
mind her that she can’t be a camp-fire girl if she doesn’t 
keep well. That ought to fix her up in a hurry.” 

“I shouldn’t wonder if it would,” Evelyn agreed. 
“It won’t do any harm to try, anyway.” 

“Come on, girls,” Ruth called, as she started to- 
ward the school. “There goes the first bell.” 

“Perhaps, instead of reminding poor Dorothy to 
hold on to health,” remarked Jessie, sagely, as they 
reluctantly turned to follow Ruth, “we should more 
justly remind ourselves to pursue knowledge.” 


CHAPTER III 


THE CAMP-FIRE OATH 

Three weeks passed and no word came from Miss 
Howland. To the impatient girls, each day dragged 
interminably, and they speculated darkly as to the 
cause of the delay. 

Had Miss Howland decided, after all, that she 
would rather not act as their adviser ? But, 
surely, that was not like her, for, if she had re- 
gretted her decision, it was the easiest thing in the 
world to let them know so that they could look for 
some one else to take her place. No, that suppo- 
sition was plainly out of the question. Then, 
what could it be? Had headquarters refused the 
license ? 

^‘Well,” remarked Lucile, at one of their after- 
school conferences, “it won’t do any good for us to 
talk about it. We have suggested and disproved every- 
thing that could possibly have happened, and I don’t 
suppose we are any nearer the real state of affairs than 
when we started.” 


30 


The Camp-Fire Oath 31 

“But, Lucy,” Evelyn protested. “What can we do ? 
Miss Howland said she would let us know as soon as 
she had received the license, but here it is Friday and 
we haven’t heard a thing.” 

“She has had time to get the license a dozen times 
over,” grumbled Ruth. 

“Not quite a dozen times,” Jessie yawned, as she 
turned over the leaves of a book she had picked up 
from the table. “In fact, I very much doubt if she 
has had time to receive it once. It seems to me,” she 
went on, “that you girls are making rather a big fuss 
over nothing.” 

“F-fuss over nothing,” Marjorie fairly stuttered in 
her indignation. “I wonder if anything ever troubles 
you, Jessie Sanderson. I believe if your best friend 
were drowning, you’d look on, indifferently and say 
to your next door neighbor, ‘It seems to me she’s mak- 
ing a big fuss about nothing,’ ” and she imitated Jes- 
sie’s drawl to perfection. 

Jessie flushed and was about to retort, angrily, when 
Lucile stepped promptly into the breach. 

“For goodness sake, girls, don’t quarrel,” she en- 
treated. “We have enough to worry about without 
that. There’s the ’phone, Evelyn,” she cried, as the 


32 Lucile 

bell rang out its noisy summons. “Do see who it is 
and stop the noise.” 

Evelyn, for it was at her house they were holding 
the meeting, ran to the ’phone and took down the re- 
ceiver. 

“Hello, hello,” she called, impatiently. “Yes, this 
is Benton 1546. This is Evelyn speaking. Oh, Miss 
Howland ” 

At sound of the magic name, every girl grew tense 
and they listened breathlessly for the rest of the mes- 
sage. 

“This afternoon. Good, Tm so glad !” then, after a 
pause, during which the girls fidgeted impatiently — 
“No, I don’t think you will have to do that. The 
girls are all here and I’ll tell them about it. To-mor- 
row? — oh, that will be great! Thank you so much 
for letting us know. Good-bye. Oh, girls,” she cried, 
as she hung up the receiver, “at last it’s come! To- 
morrow we are to hold our first meeting at Miss How- 
land’s house ! Isn’t it glorious ?” 

Glorious ! Why, glorious was no name for it. It took 
the girls a few minutes to fully realize that their plans 
were actually materializing. Although they had been 
expecting this very news for the past week, now that 


The Camp-Fire Oath 33 

it had come it seemed to them, as Dorothy expressed 
it, ‘‘too absolutely perfect to be possible.” Let it be 
said here that Dorothy had recovered with marvelous 
rapidity since the girls had reminded her of the “hold 
on to health law.” Her case was only one more exam- 
ple of the power of mind over matter. 

The time passed so quickly in joyful anticipation, 
that no one noticed what time it was getting to be un- 
til Lucile exclaimed suddenly, “Look at that clock, 
girls ! Why we must have spent two mortal hours just 
talking ! If I don’t go right away I won’t get any din- 
ner,” and she jumped down from her perch on the 
table and, after a wild search, found her hat under a 
chair with Evelyn’s little black ball of a kitten fast 
asleep in it. 

“Get up, pussy,” she said, as she lifted him 
gently and placed him carefully on his tiny, un- 
certain legs. The kitten gave a prodigious yawn 
and promptly curled up and went to sleep on the 
spot where the hat had been. She gave him one last 
pat and then turned to Jessie. “Come on, Jessie,” 
she cried, gayly. “It’s time you and I were on our 
way.” 

As they were going out the door, Marjorie said. 


34 


Lucile 


with a glance at the girls, “Don’t you think I’d better 
go home with you, Dot? I’m afraid there has been too 
much excitement for a sick girl.” 

“Sick !” Dorothy scouted the idea. “I’m no sicker 
than you are, Marjorie Hanlan, and what’s more, I 
don’t ever intend to be sick again.” 

The girls laughed and followed “her outraged high- 
ness” down the steps, and a happier group of girls 
could not be found in Burleigh that day. 

Although Lucile had confided to Jessie that she was 
sure she could never wait till to-morrow afternoon, 
there were so many things to think of and arrange 
for, that almost before she knew it, Jessie had called 
and they were off to the first meeting of the camp-fire 
girls. 

Every one but Dorothy and Marjorie was at the 
rendezvous before them, but soon after they arrived, 
the two belated ones were ushered in. 

“Oh, I do wish she would come,” Lucile confided to 
Ruth, who sat beside her on the divan. “I don’t think 
I can stand the suspense much longer.” 

The words were scarcely spoken, when the portieres 
were pushed aside and Miss Howland stood framed in 
the doorway. She made a perfect picture, as, flushed 


The Camp-Fire Oath 35 

and breathless from her hurry, she glanced from one 
to the other of the girls. 

“Fm so sorry to have kept you waiting,” she apolo- 
gized, in the sweet, low voice that was so peculiarly 
her own. “You must forgive me this time if I prom- 
ise never to do so again. Have you been waiting very 
long?” 

“Not very,” answered Evelyn. “Ruth and I got 
here first, then Lucy and Jessie, and Marjie and Dot 
just came.” 

“Well then, it isn’t quite as bad as I thought,” said 
Miss Howland, with her bright smile. “Now, I sup- 
pose you are all anxious to get right down to business, 
so we can’t start too soon. First of all,” she went on, 
as the girls gathered round, expectantly, “I sent for 
the license, as I said I would, a month ago Tuesday. 
Yesterday I received it and realized that I had under- 
taken a great responsibility. But,” with a smile at the 
look of distress that crossed the faces of her listeners, 
“I never once regretted the step I had taken, for I most 
thoroughly approve of the Camp-Fire movement. I 
have always had a general idea of its aims and theories, 
but when I found that I was going to become so closely 
connected with it, I studied the movement thoroughly. 


36 Lucile 

The more I learned of it, the more I liked the idea, 
until now I believe that I am as enthusiastic as any of 
you girls can be and I want to help you in every way 
I can/^ 

Miss Howland paused and glanced from one to the 
other of the intent faces before her, and found them 
all so full of gratitude and love, that she felt amply 
repaid for any trouble she might have taken. 

‘‘So much for my own feelings in the matter,’’ she 
continued. “Now for the really important part. I 
suppose you all know the Camp-Fire Law?” she ques- 
tioned. 

“Oh, yes, we all learned that a long time ago,” 
Lucile answered. 

“Well, we will all have a chance to repeat it after 
a while, anyway. Of course you all know that there 
are three degrees of rank — first, woodgatherer — sec- 
ond, fire-maker — and third, torch-bearer. I am sure 
that it won’t be very long before all my girls will at 
least own a camp-fire ring, for the duties of the wood- 
gatherer are not difficult.” 

“But how are we going to prove ourselves worthy 
of the ring?” asked Marjorie. 

“That is just what I was about to tell you. Now 


The Camp-Fire Oath 37 

this is my little plan. It is just two weeks to the end 
of school, and for that period I want you to keep a 
record of what you learn in the way of cooking, 
mending, gardening and anything else you may turn 
your hands to. When the two weeks are up I will be 
able to decide whether or not you have earned the 
rank. It may take some of you longer.” 

^‘Will it help if we go without candy and ice 
cream?” asked Lucile, with a mischievous glance at 
Jessie. 

Miss Howland laughed. “Yes, that would help a 
great deal,” she answered. 

“It would be impossible for a girl who served heavy 
biscuits to an unsuspecting family to become a wood- 
gatherer, wouldn’t it. Miss Howland?” Jessie sug- 
gested, lazily. “I happened to overhear one of our 
number threaten her father just the other day.” 

There was a general laugh, and Lucile retorted, 
good-naturedly, “How the dear child talks. She 
couldn’t make even a heavy biscuit to save her life.” 

“However that may be,” said Miss Howland, “we 
are all going to learn how to make very light, fluffy 
biscuits before we are very much older. And now,” 
she went on, “since the preliminaries are over, we 


38 Lucile 

might as well turn our attention to the actual organiza- 
tion of the club/' 

The girls’ faces became grave and their hearts beat 
a little faster. The moment was at hand to which they 
had looked forward so eagerly. They were about to 
take the oath that would make them camp-fire girls. 

‘‘As I call you one by one,” Miss Howland was say- 
ing, quietly, “you will repeat the law that will make 
you members of the camp-fire. Are you ready?” she 
asked, and the girls nodded assent* 

“Lucile Payton ” Lucile started and gripped the 

arm of her chair. “Lucile Payton, is it your desire to 
become a camp-fire girl and obey the law of the camp- 
fire?” 

As in a dream, Lucile stood up, vaguely conscious 
that all eyes were upon her and, still in a dream, heard 
herself repeating, “It is my desire to become a camp- 
fire girl and obey the law of the camp-fire which is — 
to seek beauty, give service, pursue knowledge, be 
trustworthy, hold on to health, glorify work, be happy. 
This law of the camp fire I will strive to follow.” 

Dimly Miss Howland’s voice came to her, as she 
sank into her chair after making the sign of the fire. 
“Dorothy Davis, is it your desire And as she 


The Camp-Fire Oath 39 

thought of the words she had spoken a moment before, 
she promised herself to keep the law always to the best 
of her ability. 

Miss Howland’s voice broke in upon her reverie. 
‘‘Well, girls,” she was saying, seriously, “we have 
taken the oath, and I am sure that we are all going to 
try from now on to live up to the high aims and ideals 
of the camp-fire. And there is one more thing,” she 
added, in a lighter tone, “that I would like to speak to 
you about.” 

The girls had been listening in sober earnestness 
so different from their first wild exhilaration, to their 
guardian’s every word ; but during the pause that fol- 
lowed, Evelyn, the irrepressible, broke out with; “I 
think I can almost understand now, Miss Howland, 
how you must have felt when you received the license 
that morning. You never realize how much you have 
undertaken until you can’t get out of it. Not that I 
want to,” she added, hastily, as the girls turned indig- 
nant eyes upon her. 

“I guess you’d just better not,” cried Ruth. “Why, 
you were the one that really started the idea of a camp- 
fire club.” 

“Evelyn Ferris, if you ever so much as hint that 


40 


Lucile 


you want to back out of this club/^ Jessie threatened, 
good-naturedly, “we won't wait for you to get out of 
your own accord. We’ll just feel obliged to put you 
out.” 

“Don’t worry, Evelyn,” Marjorie remarked with 
biting sarcasm. “You will be a camp-fire girl at ninety 
if you wait for Jessie to put you out. She’s ” 

“You’re right there,” Lucile interrupted, quickly, 
coming to the defense of her friend, “Jessie is too 
kind hearted. She will leave that to the rest of you. 
What was that you were going to speak to us about. 
Miss Howland,” she asked, during the roar of laugh- 
ter that followed at Marjorie’s expense, 

“Yes, do tell us,” entreated Dorothy, still red and 
breathless from laughing. 

“Please do,” Evelyn urged. “It was very rude of 
me to interrupt in the first place.” 

Those nearest Jessie thought they heard a mur- 
mured “quite true,” but of course they could never be 
quite sure. 

Miss Howland, who had been so thoroughly enjoy- 
ing the fun that she had forgotten for the moment that 
she had anything special to say, tried to look dignified, 
which, by the way, is a very difficult feat for laughing 


The Camp-Fire Oath 41 

gray eyes and bewitching dimples that refuse to be 
overlooked, and failed so absolutely that the girls af- 
terward confided to each other that they “wanted to 
hug her.” 

“I do declare I’ve forgotten what I was going to 
say,” she began and, then suddenly she remembered 
and went on, earnestly, “You see, it’s this way, girls. 
I went up to see little Margaret Stillman to-day.” 

“She’s Judge Stillman’s little girl, isn’t she, the lame 
one?” Lucile asked. 

“Yes, the lame one,” Miss Howland answered. 
“There is a whole tragedy in those three words ‘the 
lame one.’ She has everything that money can buy, 
but she has been deprived of the one priceless gift, 
the gift of a good, sound, healthy body. Oh, girls, you 
can’t imagine how pitiful it is — the little lame girl in 
the midst of all that elegance and luxury, so patient 
and good and so unutterably miserable and lonely.” 
Miss Howland leaned toward them, her face flushed 
and her eyes bright with unshed tears. 

“When she saw me this afternoon, she put her poor 
little thin arms around my neck and, with her head on 
my shoulder, sobbed as if her heart would break. 
When I tried to comfort her and show her how much 


42 Lucile 

she had to live for, she broke from me and cried out, 
fiercely : ‘Live for ! I have nothing to live for but my 
father ! He loves me dearly, but I want more than that 
— I want to be like other people! I want to be able 
to go out in the street without having people point to 
me and say — “There goes Margaret Stillman, the lame 
girl” I want to have friends, but what do the girls 
want of a cripple like me. Oh, I do try to be good 
and cheerful for father’s sake, and you have been so 
good to me that sometimes I feel very wicked and un- 
grateful but, oh, I do so want to be like other girls I’ ” 

A stifled sob came from a corner of the room, and 
Miss Howland looked from one to the other of the 
eager, girlish faces before her. 

“Oh, and to think we never knew,” Dorothy ex- 
claimed, with a world of self-reproach in her voice. 
“Here we have been having such good times and we’ve 
never given a thought to anybody but our own selfish 
selves. Oh, Miss Howland, isn’t there anything we 
could do to make up?” she asked, anxiously, as she 
wiped a tear from the end of her nose. 

“Of course there is,” Lucile broke in, before Miss 
Howland could answer. “What’s the matter with our 
asking her to join our camp fire?” 


The Camp-Fire Oath 43 

“Join our camp fire,” Ruth repeated, incredulously. 
“Why, Lucy, are you crazy? It would spoil all the 
fun!” 

“Ruth Cashaw, I wonder you’re not ashamed of 
yourself,” exclaimed Marjorie, indignantly. “Spoil 
all the fun! Why, looking at it even from a selfish 
standpoint, do you think that we could possibly enjoy 
ourselves with the picture of that lonely girl before 
our eyes all day long? Maybe you could, but I 
couldn’t.” 

“That’s exactly the way I feel,” Jessie put in, and 
turning to Miss Howland, she added, “It will be all 
right for us to ask her, won’t it. Miss Howland? We 
all want to.” 

“Indeed we do,” came in an eager chorus, and Lu- 
cile added, “Oh, Miss Howland, how soon can we?” 

The new-made guardian of the fire regarded her 
little group of fire girls with a happy smile. She was 
so proud of these warm-hearted girls who would take 
the chance of spoiling their own good times rather 
than hurt one of their less fortunate sisters. 

“You dear girls,” she cried, “I knew you would do 
it. I didn’t want to suggest it in the beginning, for 
fear you might think you had to, and I Wanted you to 


44 


Lucile 


ask her of your own free will. But, in order to ask 
her to join, we must have a unanimous vote. All in 
favor of asking Margaret Stillman to become a camp- 
fire girl and join our club say ‘aye’.” 

Even Ruth, now a trifle ashamed of her reluctance, 
joined in the “aye” and Miss Howland declared the 
vote to be unanimously carried. 

“But who is going to ask her?” Lucile questioned. 

“I thought of that,” Miss Howland answered, “and 
it seems to me that the best thing to do would be for 
you all to go up to Judge Stillman’s house, either to- 
morrow or next day. I won’t go with you, for she 
might think you had come by my request. Then I 
thought it would be better for you all to go, so that 
she might see that you were all interested.” 

“Oh, that will be fine,” cried Dorothy. “I simply 
can’t wait until I see poor Margaret and tell her there 
are some girls who want to be friendly, anyway.” 

“That’s the right spirit, Dorothy, and I’m proud of 
all my camp-fire girls. But it’s getting late now, and 
I’m afraid your folks will be worried if you don’t 
get home before dark.” 

“It is late,” Marjorie admitted, “but it really seems 
as if we had just come.” 


The Camp-Fire Oath 45 

A few minutes later, Miss Howland stood on her 
porch and waved good-by to the merry group hurry- 
ing down the street until they disappeared from view. 

“Isn’t she lovely,” said Marjorie, as they turned the 
corner and lost sight of the graceful white figure of 
their guardian. “And, oh, girls, I don’t think I ever 
enjoyed myself in all my life as I have this afternoon.” 

“Yes, only it hasn’t been half long enough,” sighed 
Lucile., “Isn’t it wonderful;^ how time flies when 
you’re enjoying yourself.” 

But the real enjoyment had come from the determi- 
nation to help one little soul, struggling gallantly 
against great odds, to attain her birthright of love and 
friendship. 


CHAPTER IV 


*'the poor little rich girl’’ 

Sunday passed uneventfully. All day long the rain 
came down in torrents, and even Lucile, who usually 
enjoyed nothing better than a good brisk walk in the 
rain, decided that she’d ‘Tather enjoy it from the in- 
side.” 

“Besides,” she had told Jessie over the telephone, 
“I’m sure we can do more good and have more fun in 
the house trying to cook ” 

“ Trying’ is good,” Jessie interrupted. 

“ — than we could taking a muddy tramp in the 
rain,” Lucile went on, ignoring the interruption. 

“I’m sure of it,” answered Jessie. “But, speaking 
of muddy tramps. I’ll have to take one, if you expect 
me to come over to your house. Why don’t you come 
over here?” 

“Because everything is ready and Mary says she’ll 
show us how to make biscuits if you hurry.” Then 
she added in a stage whisper, “You’d better come, Jes- 
46 


“The Poor Little Rich Girl’’ 47 

sie, it’s the chance of a lifetime. We may not be able 
to catch her in such a good humor for a week to come. 
There she is, now. Say ‘yes' quick !" 

And Jessie had answered, “All right. Til be there if 
I have to swim !" 

So the girls had learned to make biscuits, not the 
“sinker" variety, but light, fluffy, delicious ones that 
fairly melted in your mouth; and Mary, delighted at 
their progress, rashly promised to teach them all they 
wanted to know. 

Next morning, Jessie, who had spent the night with 
Lucile, woke early, contrary to custom, and found her 
friend still asleep. 

“Lucy," she cried, “wake up! What do you mean 
by sleeping so late when we have the most exciting 
day of the whole year before us! Wake up, sleepy- 
head." 

“Wh-what’s the matter?" yawned Lucile. “Is the 
house a'fire ?" 

“Of course not, silly," said Jessie, disdainfully, for 
she was thoroughly enjoying the altered state of af- 
fairs. “I was just remarking that on such a beauti- 
ful day and when we have so much to do it is positively 
sinful to waste time in sleep." 


48 


Lucile 


“Oh, that’s all, is it,” said Lucile, sinking back on 
her pillow with a relieved air. “I thought it must be 
something very serious to wake you up so early. Now 
that you’ve relieved your mind, you’d better try to 
get some more sleep; it’s only about five o’clock.” 

“Five o’clock !” Jessie exclaimed. “I bet it’s nearer 
six!” 

“All right, it’s easy enough to find out,” Lucile an- 
swered, sleepily. “There’s no use your looking at the 
clock,” she added, following Jessie’s glance. “That 
stopped about three days ago. But my watch is on the 
dresser.” 

So Jessie consulted the watch and saw to her sur- 
prise that the hands pointed to a little past five. 

“You’re right,” she acknowledged. “It’s only five 
o’clock, but I could have sworn it was later. I won- 
der how it ever happened.” 

“That’s what I was wondering. But now, please 
come in here, Jessie, and go to sleep, unless,” as an 
afterthought, “you’d like to stay awake so you can 
call me when it’s time to get up.” 

“Watch me,” said Jessie. 

Nine o’clock found our camp-fire girls bending over 


“The Poor Little Rich GirF’ 


49 


their books in a hard pursuit of knowledge. But it 
seemed to them that never in all their lives had they 
felt so little like studying. The day was one of those 
scorching ones that sometimes comes about the end of 
June as a forerunner to summer and it was so 
hard to banish visions of cool, tempting spots be- 
side a brook or lake with a book to read and, per- 
haps, a juicy, red apple, right from the orchard with 
the heat of the sun still upon it. But to them came 
also the vision of a poor little girl, surrounded by 
wealth and luxury, and again they could hear 

Miss Howland’s words ” deprived of the one 

priceless gift, the gift of a good, strong, healthy 
body 

But all things must come to an end, and so, after 
what seemed an age of waiting to the impatient girls, 
the last gong rang and they were free. 

“Oh, I’m so glad it’s over!” Evelyn exclaimed as 
she picked out the books she needed to take home. “I 
did try hard to ‘pursue knowledge,’ but I’m afraid my 
trying didn’t do very much good.” 

A few moments later the girls emerged from the 
stuffy gloom of the school-room into the warm sunlight 
and were immediately engrossed in the one topic that 


50 Lucile 

held interest for them nowadays. Suddenly, Jessie 
brought them to a standstill. 

‘‘Girls,” she cried, “surely we aren’t going in the 
right direction. Judge Stillman’s house is down the 
other way!” 

“Why of course we aren’t,” cried Lucile. “Margaret 
lives at Tenth and here we are at Fourth. I wonder if 
the heat’s responsible.” 

“Don’t put it off on the heat,” said Jessie. “We 
aren’t any crazier than usual, I guess. Come on, let’s 
get back.” 

When they reached the great Stillman mansion, 
they were ushered into an imposing drawing-room 
by a still more imposing butler, who politely requested 
them “to wait.” 

The girls looked about them wonderingly at the 
soft velvet hangings that formed a rich background 
for marble busts of marvelous whiteness, and at the 
softly tinted pictures, all works of the masters, that 
lined the walls. 

“It doesn’t seem possible,” Lucile observed in a 
low tone, “that we have come here to try to make Mar- 
garet Stillman happier, when she has all this to make 
her contented and happy.” 


“The Poor Little Rich Girl” 


51 


“I’m really beginning to wish I hadn’t come,” said 
Marjorie, nervously. “It seems to me she has about 
all she could wish for without our bothering her. I 
declare. I’m almost tempted to slip away before that 
brass-buttoned thing gets back,” and she glanced long- 
ingly at the door. 

“But don’t you remember what Miss Howland 
said,” Dorothy reminded her gently, “about the one 
priceless gift ?” 

“That’s right,” Jessie added. “I guess we have all 
been forgetting that.” 

“Yes,” said Lucile, “we can’t back out now, girls — 
we’ve got to see the thing through.” 

At that moment the butler appeared in the doorway 
and announced that “Miss Stillman would see them” 
and would they “please follow him?” 

“I’d follow him anywhere,” Evelyn confided to Lu- 
cile as they ascended the broad stairway. “I like the 
way he carries his head — he looks as if he were trying 
to see how far he can push it back without snapping 
his collar bone !” 

A moment later, the butler pushed aside some hang- 
ings, and the girls stepped into a large, airy room with 
great French windows all along one side of it that 


52 


Lucile 


opened upon a small balcony. Through the windows 
the girls caught glimpses of what seemed to be hun- 
dreds of flowers, mingling their purple, gold and scar- 
let in glorious confusion. 

Dorothy, who had entered the room in advance of 
the others, gave a little gasp of delight and started 
toward the flowers. 

“Oh, how love she cried, but stopped with the 

word half spoken, while a slow flush mounted from 
her throat to the roots of her hair. “Oh,’’ she stam- 
mered, “Exc-cuse me,” and then stopped, utterly at a 
loss. 

For, halfway to the window, she had met the sober, 
questioning gaze of little Margaret Stillman, “the lame 
one,” who was seated on the divan in the sunny corner 
of the room, half hidden by the cushions. 

For a moment there was an awkward pause. Then 
Lucile advanced toward the girl, who seemed so much 
younger than she, and said, with her frank, winning 
smile, “I’m sure you must know who we are, Mar- 
garet, even if you don’t know our names. We’ve 
passed you on the street many a time and we’ve all 
been so anxious to meet you that we just couldn’t wait 
any longer.” 


‘‘The Poor Little Rich Girl’’ 


53 


“So we made up our minds that the only way we 
could meet you was to come to see you, and here we 
are,” supplemented Marjorie, who, at the sight of the 
pale, thin face and dark, questioning eyes of the little 
lame girl, had lost all uneasiness and felt only great 
sympathy and tenderness for one so infinitely less for- 
tunate than herself. 

Margaret looked from one to the other as if to make 
sure they were in earnest, and then extended one small 
hand timidly. 

“Fm very glad to meet you all,” she said, shyly. 
“Won’t you please sit down ?” 

The girls complied readily, settling themselves in 
comfortable nooks and corners and Lucile continued : 

“You see, it’s this way,” she said. “A few weeks 
ago we girls got it into our heads that it might be a 
good idea to form a camp-fire ” 

Margaret leaned forward eagerly and a tinge of 
color came into her pale face. “Oh, I know all about 
the camp-fire girls,” she cried excitedly, all her shy- 
ness gone. “Did you form a camp-fire — did you?” 

“Indeed we did,” Jessie broke in, fired by her en- 
thusiasm. “And it’s going to be the greatest little 
camp-fire ever invented, isn’t it, girls?” 


54 Lucile 

But the little invalid had settled back among her 
cushions, all the color had receded and left her face 
whiter than before, and again the tired, listless look 
veiled the natural beauty of her dark eyes — resentment 
was playing riot in her heart. Why had these strong, 
healthy girls come to tell her of the pleasures in store 
for them? Why did they wish to taunt her with her 
miserable weakness? Oh, it was cruel, cruel! 

Lucile saw the change and guessed the reason. 

‘^A.nd so, Margaret, dear,’’ she said, taking the thin, 
white hand in both her own, ‘^and so, Margaret, we 
have come to ask you to join us, to be one of us, to let 
us be your loving, loyal friends. Won’t you?” 

Margaret looked into Lucile’s earnest eyes unbeliev- 
ingly. Surely there was some mistake. These girls, 
overflowing with life and vitality, they could not pos- 
sibly want her, the cripple, the lame girl — oh, it was 
impossible 1 

And again came the gentle, insistent, “We want 
you so much, Margaret. Won’t you, please?” and 
again she met Lucile’s clear gaze and read there 
only unbounded tenderness and sympathy and under- 
standing. 

Very slowly the incredulity left her face and an an- 


‘‘The Poor Little Rich Girl” 


55 


swering gleam of understanding and love crept into 
her dark eyes. 

^'Oh, you do mean it,” she cried, joyfully. ‘‘I know 

you do ! Thank you — oh thank you ” and she laid 

her head on Lucile’s shoulder and cried ‘‘just because 
her heart was so full she couldn’t help it,” as she ex- 
plained to the girls afterward. 

And Lucile cried and all the girls cried, until there 
was danger of “their all having to swim home,” to take 
Jessie’s version of it. 

But it was only an April shower and very soon Mar- 
garet looked up with a smile breaking through her 
tears and said “she was sorry to make such a fuss,” 
but that she “would be all right presently.” 

Five minutes more and the sun was fairly out and 
the girls were pouring all their hopes and plans and 
ambitions into the eager ears of the prospective mem- 
ber. 

“And next year Miss Howland says we may be able 
to arrange it so we can camp out for the summer. 
Then we can have a real camp-fire, and make believe 
we won’t have some fun !” Dorothy was saying. 

“Miss Howland,” cried Margaret. “Is she going 
to be guardian? You didn’t tell me that.” 


56 


Lucile 


'‘Yes, that’s the best part of it,” Marjorie answered. 
‘^She is by far the loveliest person I ever met,” em- 
phatically. 

“Indeed she is,” said Margaret, and a thoughtful 
look came into her eyes. 

“By the way, Margaret,” Lucile broke in, “I’ve 
been dying to look at those gorgeous flowers. How 
do you ever get them to thrive like that?” 

“Oh, I just take very good care of them,” said Mar- 
garet, simply. “You may go out and look at 
them if you want to. If you will please hand me 
that crutch — there, behind you, Lucile — I’ll go out 
with you.” 

So they all stepped out upon the little balcony with 
its flowers basking in the afternoon sunshine, and 
Margaret led them from one to the other of her fa- 
vorites. 

It was a pretty sight — the little lame girl with her 
flushed face in her soft, white dress looking not unlike 
a flower herself — and the merry girls, now uttering 
little exclamations of delight and again listening with 
intent earnestness to their small guide’s explanations. 

The girls would willingly have stayed much longer, 
but as the relentless hands of the clock pointed to half 



f9 


“MARGARET LED THEM FROM ONE TO THE OTHER OF HER FAVORITES 


* I 




‘‘The Poor Little Rich Girl’’ 57 

past five, they reluctantly left the balcony and declared 
that they must go. 

“Oh, must you so soon,” cried Margaret in dismay. 
“Why, you have just come.” 

“I wish we didn’t have to, but the folks will have 
the police reserves out looking for us if we don’t 
turn up soon,” laughed Evelyn. 

“But you will come again, right away,” Margaret 
begged. “Promise me you won’t wait long.” 

“Indeed we won’t,” they cried, and Lucile added 
merrily, “We’ll come so often that perhaps you will 
wish we would keep away. Don’t forget next Sat- 
urday!” 

“There’s no danger of that,” said Margaret as she 
pressed a button beside her. 

“What’s that for?” asked Dorohy. 

“That’s to call buttons, stupid,” Marjorie answered. 

“Maybe he’ll break his neck going down, since he 
didn’t on the way up,” said Evelyn, hopefully. 

“Oh, John isn’t as bad as he looks,” Margaret pro- 
tested, gayly. “He’d really break his neck to do you 
a favor.” 

“Well, Evelyn, here’s your chance,” cried Lucile, 
merrily. “Have you thought what the favor will be ?” 


58 


Lucile 


But the subject of their ridicule appearing at that 
particular moment, they were forced to take a last hur- 
ried leave of Margaret. 

“Come on,” whispered Jessie, “he won’t wait!” 

Another minute and they were following “buttons’ ” 
broad back down the stairs to the accompaniment of 
sundry suspicious gasps and gurgles that betokened 
anything but a lowness of spirits. 


CHAPTER V 


TOWARD THE GOAL 

After the memorable visit to Margaret there fol- 
lowed a train of happy events that welded closer their 
bond of friendship and melted days into weeks and 
weeks into months with astonishing rapidity. Al- 
though shy at first, Margaret had blossomed in the 
sunshine of their kindness and gentle consideration for 
her until she had finally come not only to be regarded 
by the girls, but to regard herself as one of them. 
Although she loved them all and did everything she 
could to show her gratitude, Lucile was her idol — the 
personification of all that was good and lovable. Lu- 
cile returned the little lame girl’s affection with inter- 
est, the only difference being that, what on Margaret’s 
part was adoration, in Lucile was changed to an over- 
whelming desire to protect and shield. And though 
the girls did all in their power to aid the little lame 
girl in her struggle to be like other girls, their help was 
offered so unobtrusively and with such unfailing tact, 
that she rarely felt that she was different and only 


59 


60 Lucile 

knew in her grateful heart that she was the happiest 
and luckiest girl in the world. 

The days had been so full of duties and pleasures, 
that the girls had no time to note how fast they flew. 
Three months fled by on golden wings, and one bright 
morning Lucile, Marjorie and Evelyn awoke to find 
themselves ‘Vood-gatherers,” and it was not long be- 
fore the others followed their lead. 

As autumn raced past to give place to winter, to- 
gether Lucile and Marjorie had waded through the 
long list of fire-maker’s requirements, and on the same 
happy day pronounced the desire that made them 
proud owners of the silver bracelet. Although Evelyn 
had kept pace with Lucile and Marjorie to the wood- 
gatherer’s goal, she had dropped back in the fight for 
fire-maker, until she found herself behind Jessie. Real- 
izing that that would never do, she spurred on again, 
but found that Jessie was not the mean rival she had 
supposed. Elated by her success in getting ahead of 
Evelyn, Jessie had applied herself to her studies and 
duties with a fervor that surprised the girls. Now, 
the two were intense, though friendly rivals, and it was 
a matter of great interest to the girls to see who would 
get there first. 


Toward the Goal 


61 


But Ruth and Dorothy, what of them? Well, in 
the first place, in spite of her firm resolution to keep 
well, Dorothy had more than once been forced to neg- 
lect school work and everything else because of severe 
colds. Any one who is subject to colds knows that 
they are the bitterest enemies of exertion. 

And Ruth, well Ruth, after reaching the rank of 
wood-gatherer, seemed to think that she had done 
enough, and in spite of Evelyn’s repeated urging and 
ridicule had continued on her own self-satisfied way, 
calmly announcing that “she didn’t see why she had 
to hurry — there was plenty of time.” 

Three more girls had been added to their number — 
two of them sisters, Elsie and Eleanor Gordon — and 
Gertrude Church. At this time they had been mem- 
bers for nearly two months, and if they continued their 
good work, there was every reason to expect that all 
three would receive the wood-gatherer’s ring before 
the end of the following month. 

Now it was Friday, and the girls, gathered at Lu- 
cile’s, were speculating on the surprise their guardian 
had promised them on the morrow. 

“I wonder what it can be,” Jessie was saying. “For 
the past week Miss Howland has looked so mysterious 


62 Lucile 

that I can't wait till to-morrow to find out what it is 
all about." 

^‘Yes, Tve noticed it," broke in Margaret. ^‘She has 
just the littlest suggestion of a smile at the corners of 
her mouth and you expect every minute that she will 
break out into a laugh." 

‘‘And her eyes," added Dorothy, excitedly. “Have 
you noticed them? Why they fairly dance. No mat- 
ter how hard she tries to be serious, her eyes always 
give her away." 

“Yes, they seem to say, ‘Don’t you wish you knew 
what I know?’ Long before she spoke of a surprise 
I knew something was coming." 

“Oh, girls," exclaimed Marjorie in a tone that made 
them all jump. “Here I’ve been doing nothing when 
I ought to be home tending to Pietro" — Pietro 
being the canary bird. “It’s the hardest honor I ever 
tried to get, because I always forget him. Well, good- 
by, I’m glad I thought of him in time," and after a 
peek in the glass to see that her hat was on straight, 
she rushed out of the door. 

“Don’t forget to-morrow," Lucile called after her. 

“No danger," came the reply, and Marjorie was off 
to tend to Pietro, who, it must be confessed, was so 


Toward the Goal 


63 


surprised by the unusual attentions showered upon 
him that he hadn’t been able to give anything but a 
little astonished “peep” for the last week. 

“That reminds me,” observed Dorothy, a few min- 
utes later, “I have to do the marketing for to-night 
and it will be too late if I don’t hurry. Don’t you 
want to go with me, Margaret? You said you were on 
duty this week, too.” 

“Surely I’ll go along,” Margaret answered, reach- 
ing for her crutch. 

“Isn’t anybody going to stay with me,” mourned 
Lucile. “I don’t want to be left all alone.” 

“I’d stay gladly, Lucy, but I have some work to- 
night that can’t be put off,” said Evelyn. 

“Well, you surely will stay with me, won’t you, 
Jessie?” she asked, as Jessie rose to go. 

“Can’t,” was the laconic answer. “Evelyn is a lit- 
tle ahead of me now, and I’ve got to make up for lost 
time.” 

“Oh, all right, if you are all so busy I suppose you 
will have to go. As for me, I intend to do absolutely 
nothing for to-night.” 

“As usual,” murmured Evelyn, and Jessie hustled 
her out of the door, “for which,” she affirmed, “you 


64 Lucile 

will be thankful to me some day. Lucy is dangerous 
when her temp'er’s up.’’ 

Lucile sent one parting shot before she closed the 
door. ‘'Such bad attempts at humor are only worthy 
of contempt,” she said. 

That night at dinner Phil remarked on Lucile’s 
abstraction. “What’s the matter, Lucy,” he said, 
“anything gone wrong with the camp-fire?” 

“No,” came the preoccupied answer. “I was just 
wondering what the surprise will be.” 

But “all things come to him who waits,” and so the 
morning came to ten impatient camp-fire girls. 

Miss Howland didn’t spend much time on ceremony 
that day, for, as the girls said, “she seemed as anx- 
ious to tell us the news as we were to hear it.” 

“Well, girls,” she said, at last, “I promised you a 
pleasant, or at least I hope it will be a pleasant, sur- 
prise to-day, and I am going to redeem my promise 
right away.” She glanced around at the expectant 
faces and laughed a little merry laugh as if, to quote 
the girls again, “she was so full of happiness that it 
bubbled over.” 

“Do you remember,” she went on, “that when we 
first started the camp-fire — a year ago the day after 


Toward the Goal 65 

to-morrow — I said that next year we might be able to 
have a real camp-fire in the real woods?’' 

‘‘Yes,” they breathed, excitedly. 

“Well,” said their guardian, leaning back in her 
chair with an expression of immense enjoyment, “it 
looks as if that little prophecy were coming true.” 

For a moment there was silence, while this astound- 
ing announcement had time to sink deep into their con- 
sciousness. 

“A real camp in the real woods,” Lucile repeated, 
incredulously. “Oh, Miss Howland, do you really 
mean it?” 

“Of course I mean it,” Miss Howland assured her, 
“and what’s more, with your parents’ consent, we will 
start the day after school closes — that is, in two weeks 
time.” 

At last the girls were convinced that their good for- 
tune was real and that the hope they had cherished in 
secret for the past year was not unfounded. They sur- 
rounded Miss Howland and showered her with ques- 
tions until she was finally obliged to say, “If you will 
just sit down, girls, I will try to answer your ques- 
tions one at a time and I’m sure we will get along much 
better.” 


66 


Lucile 


Obediently they arranged themselves in a semicircle 
about her and she started to explain. 

‘Xast February/’ she began, bought a large tract 
of ground along the Mayaro River. It’s a beautiful 
river and our camp would be situated on its banks. 
How do you like the idea?” 

“Like it!” Evelyn cried. “Why it’s what we have 
been longing for all the year.” 

“It will seem like a story,” sighed Dorothy, con- 
tentedly. 

“But, Miss Howland, there’s one thing you haven’t 
told us. Where are we going to get the tents and all 
the other things we would have to take on a trip like 
that?” Lucile asked. 

“Have any of you any idea how much you turned 
in last year?” was Miss Howland’s apparently irrele- 
vant question. “Do you know, Lucile?” 

“Why, no, not exactly,” said Lucile, truthfully. “I 
know we made quite a good deal, though.” 

“Well, over and above all we have been able to con- 
tribute to charity, there has been enough to enable me 
to buy everything we need — tents, utensils and so 
forth. Of course each girl will have to furnish her 
own pillows and blankets and necessary clothing.” 


Toward the Goal 


67 


‘‘About all we’ll need in the way of clothing will be 
a middy and the camp bathing suit, won’t it ?” Eleanor 
inquired. 

“Very nearly — except, of course, a traveling suit,” 
Miss Howland assented. 

“And we can go in bathing every day,” cried Evelyn, 
rapturously. “Just think of it ! I’ll be tempted to live 
in my bathing suit !” 

“But there’s one thing we won’t be able to have,” 
put in Jessie. “And that’s a boat. I don’t suppose 
there are any up at the river, are there. Miss How- 
land?” she asked, hopefully. 

“I’m afraid that is one thing we will have to do 
without,” said Miss Howland, but there was a twinkle 
in her eye that none of them understood for a long 
time afterward. 

At her words the girls grew thoughtful, for a sum- 
mer on the very banks of a beautiful river without 
a single boat to launch upon it was practically unheard 
of. Miss Howland saw the cloud and hastened to 
change the subject. 

“There are several small islands scattered through 
the river,” she began, by way of description. 

“Real islands?” Margaret cried. “Oh, I do like 


68 Lucile 

islands. Ever since I read ‘Robinson Crusoe’ I’ve 
longed to be cast away on a desert island with sav- 
ages, like Friday 

“Savages,” Marjorie interrupted, “are not very lov- 
able creatures to my way of thinking. Islands are all 
right, but I must say I draw the line at making friends 
of those black-skinned wretches.” 

Margaret flushed and Lucile said quickly, “I 
shouldn’t wonder if they would make as good friends 
as some white people.” 

“There won’t be any hope of our meeting savages 
on those islands,” said Miss Howland with a smile. 
“They are far too near civilization to be as romantic 
as all that.” 

Suddenly Ruth, who had been quietly thinking, 
broke out with, “What good will the islands do us. 
Miss Howland, if we haven’t any boats to go over in ? 
We can’t walk.’^ 

The girls looked at one another in consternation, 
for here was a very obvious difficulty that they had 
not thought of, and they turned to their guardian for 
a solution. 

All she said was, “Don’t worry about that until we 
get there. We will get over to those islands if we 


Toward the Goal 69 

have to build a raft,” which was an answer, if not a 
very satisfactory one. 

“Do you mind if I ask you one more question, Miss 
Howland?” asked Gertrude Kent, who after the first 
burst of enthusiasm had been strangely silent. 

“Go ahead,” said Miss Howland, cheerily. “Fm 
ready to answer any number of them.” 

“I just wanted to know if we are to tell our folks 
about the plan right away,” she said. “I’m afraid to, 
for fear they’ll object.” 

“I don’t think you need worry about that,” said 
Miss Howland, with the same mysterious twinkle in 
her eyes that the girls had learned to know and watch 
fof. So now they said never a word, but waited ea- 
gerly for the explanation they knew would follow. 

“When I made up my mind,” she began, “I intended 
to make sure first that nothing could happen to spoil 
it, so ” 

“So you went to see our mothers and fathers and 
made sure of their consent before you mentioned it to 
us,” Lucile finished for her. 

“How did you guess it, Lucile?” Miss Howland 
exclaimed, delightedly. “I think you must be a mind 
reader.” 


70 Lucile 

“She doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know that 
you always do the best thing for us,” said Marjorie, 
warmly. 

“Oh, now I know,” cried Dorothy. “That’s what 
you and mother were talking about that day I came 
home from school early and found you there.” 

“And now I can guess why Dad talked so strangely 
the other night,” said Lucile. “He kept asking me all 
the time whether I didn’t think it would be a good 
thing for me to get away to the country for a little 
while. Just wait till I see him to-night,” this last with 
a theatening nod that boded ill for Mr. Payton. 

For another hour they were kept busy discussing 
plans and prospects for the summer, and when they 
at last started for home their hearts were as light as 
air and they imagined themselves already in camp. 

In fancy they could see the camp-fire — a real camp- 
fire now — they could see the flames dart wildly up, 
only to melt into nothingness against the black back- 
ground of woods and sky — the weird, fantastic shad- 
ows thrown by dancing flames. And when the last 
ember flared and sputtered to its end, the veil of night 
would settle down upon them and then — silence, un- 
broken save for soft, woodland whispering 


Toward the Goal 71 

‘‘If we only had a canoe,” sighed Jessie, “the picture 
would be complete.” 

Even as she spoke Miss Howland rose lazily from 
her chair and in a soft voice addressed her mirrored 
reflection. “I wonder,” she was saying, with a dreamy 
smile, “what my camp-fire girls would say if they 
knew I had still another surprise in store for them?” 


CHAPTER VI 


A GLORIOUS SURPRISE 

The great day had come at last — the day on which 
they were to start for Mayaro. Promptly at nine 
o’clock Miss Howland, our ten camp-fire girls and 
many of their friends and relatives stood on the plat- 
form, waiting for the nine five express. 

At least a dozen times the said friends and relatives 
had said good-by and the girls had listened ^‘several 
hundred times, at least,” to quote Evelyn, to the in- 
numerable friendly and parental injunctions to ‘^ave 
a good time,” “take care of yourself,” and “don’t 
cause Miss Howland any trouble,” and then the ex- 
press thundered around the curve and came to a stand- 
still with great clanking and scraping of brakes. 

The girls scrambled on board and leaned out of the 
car windows to call a last “good-by.” “Yes, I’ll re- 
member,” “hot a bit,” “sure, by the very first mail,” 
they called to the handkerchief-waving crowd on the 
platform, and were off. 

“Well,” said Jessie, as she settled back in her seat, 


73 


A Glorious Surprise 73 

‘‘we have actually started. The last two weeks 
have seemed so long I was afraid we would never 
get off.’’ 

“It hasn’t seemed long to me,” observed Lucile. 
“There has been so much to attend to that I haven’t 
had time to squeeze everything in.” 

“Well,” Evelyn remarked, sagely, “I guess it all 
depends on your point of view, anyway. How long 
did you say it would take to get to Mayaro, Miss 
Howland?” she asked for the fifth time that morning. 

“We’ll reach Mayaro about two o’clock if there is 
no delay,” Miss Howland answered with admirable 
patience. 

Soon the girls became interested in watching the 
landscape as it rushed past them — and it was well 
worth watching, with its hills and plains, lakes and 
rivers, dense woods or scattered timber, all alike made 
beautiful by the soft green of summer. The ride 
proved all too short and they were distinctly disap- 
pointed when Miss Howland announced the next sta- 
tion to be Mayaro. 

All disappointment vanished, however, to give place 
to unbounded delight when they stepped from the 
train to the platform and gazed about them. 


74 Lucile 

never saw anything so beautiful,” cried Lucile, 
and Miss Howland smiled her appreciation. 

'‘I thought you would like it,” she was saying, when 
the girls were startled by a voice behind them. They 
turned quickly and their gaze rested on the ungainly 
figure of a country boy about fifteen years old. He 
wore an old blue shirt, open at the throat, and a pair 
of overalls that would have been short for him two or 
three years before. His limbs were bare from below 
the ragged legs of the overalls to the tops of his 
ragged shoes. These last were very much too big 
for him — Jessie afterward declared that they looked 
‘‘more like yards than feet” — and were so tattered and 
torn that it was a mystery how they ever stayed on at 
all. In his hand he held an old, broad-brimmed straw 
hat. 

But when one looked at his face, they somehow 
forgot that his figure was ungainly and his clothing 
ragged; for his frank eyes held a haunting look of 
pathetic entreaty, as if they silently asked the world 
not to think too harshly of him. 

“If you please, miss,” he was saying, haltingly, 
“be you the lady that sent the telegraph ahead for the 
farm wagons?” 


A Glorious Surprise 75 

“I am/' Miss Howland answered, kindly. ‘And 
you, I suppose, are the one who is to help me take my 
baggage to the river camp ?” 

“Yes, miss," he replied. “Is that your baggage 
down there at the other end of the station?" pointing 
to the great pile of canvas-covered luggage that lay 
where the freight men had left it. 

Miss Howland signified assent and started off with 
him to supervise the loading. 

“Did you ever see such a funny-looking thing in 
all your life?" Ruth whispered, as the girls looked 
after him. “The back view is even funnier than the 
front." 

“I like him, just the same," declared Margaret, 
stoutly. “He has a good face even if his clothes are 
old." 

“He looks as if he would do almost anything for 
you," observed Evelyn, thoughtfully. 

“Perhaps he would be like Margaret's butler," Mar- 
jorie suggested. “Break his neck to do you a favor." 

“Yes, here's where you might try again, Evelyn," 
Dorothy teased. “Buttons wouldn't break his neck 
for you, but maybe this one will be more obliging." 

“All right. I’ll ask him," Evelyn retorted, and 


76 Lucile 

started up the station, as if she really meant to put her 
words into action. 

“You’d better come back, Evelyn,” Elsie warned, 
“he might bite.” 

As if he heard the words and understood 
their meaning, the boy turned and looked at them. 
In spite of themselves they flushed guiltily, but 
were saved from further embarrassment by their 
guardian, who at that moment beckoned them to 
come. 

“Do you suppose he heard?” Elsie whispered in a 
panic, as they obeyed the summons. 

“Of course not,” Lucile answered, reassuringly. 
“But I must say it almost seemed as if he did,” she 
added. 

When they joined Miss Howland, she was giving 
some last directions to the boy and the driver of the 
other wagon. 

“All right, miss,” said the boy and sprang to the 
seat of the wagon. “Gid-dap,” he cried, and away they 
rattled over the uneven ground until they disappeared 
along the thickly-wooded road. 

“There was plenty of room in the two wagons for 
you girls,” said Miss Howland, “but I thought it 


A Glorious Surprise 77 

would do us all good to walk. It’s only a scant mile to 
the camp site.” 

‘‘Oh, yes,” agreed Lucile. “After sitting in that 
old train for five hours, it seems good to be able to 
walk again.” 

“And the scenery is so beautiful, too, that we want 
plenty of time to enjoy it,” Jessie added. 

So the girls and their guardian followed in the wake 
of the farm wagons along the beautiful country road. 
The day was typical of early July — warm, balmy, 
fragrant with the breath of growing things, vocal 
with the bubbling music of the birds. 

To the left of them rose an embankment, perhaps 
eighteen or twenty feet in height, while on the right 
the ground dropped precipitously, affording a magnifi- 
cent view of the valley below. Houses, half hidden 
by the trees and looking for all the world like “over- 
grown dolls’ houses,” dotted the green slope. 

The girls fairly danced. “Look at it, look at it!” 
they cried. “Look at all the tiny houses and the tiny 
oxen and the little bits of trees I” 

“And that must be a river down there,” said Dor- 
othy, pointing to a thread of silver, dimly visible 
through the dense foliage. 


78 Lucile 

‘'Yes, that’s Mayaro River,” said Miss Howland. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” 

“You mean that’s where our camp is to be?” cried 
Lucile, excitedly, and the girls gazed at the stream 
with redoubled interest. 

“Exactly,” answered Miss Howland, smiling at 
their enthusiasm. “Our camp will be situated over 
there at the farther side.” 

“But how are we going to get there,” asked Mar- 
jorie, after a moment. 

“Well, since we can’t fly and there doesn’t seem to 
be anything nearly resembling an aeroplane anywhere 
in our immediate vicinity, it almost looks as if we 
would be obliged to walk,” said Jessie all in one 
breath. 

“My goodness, Jessie,” cried Gertrude, who had not 
yet had time to get used to Jessie’s manner of speech, 
“when did you swallow the dictionary?” 

“Oh, she doesn’t have to use the dictionary,” 
Evelyn explained. “That particular form of insanity 
comes natural to her.” 

“I’m glad you told us about it,” said Eleanor. “We 
will at least be prepared for the worst next time, but 
let us hope there will be no next time.” 


A Glorious Surprise 79 

‘'Yes, it’s very thoughtful of you,” added Elsie, 
“the blow almost killed me this time.” 

“In spite of all the chatter,” said Marjorie, who, 
up to this time had been waiting with an expression 
of bored tolerance for a chance to speak, “I don’t seem 
to be any nearer having a sensible answer than I was 
in the beginning.” 

“How in the world do you expect us to tell you, 
when we don’t know any more about it than you do?” 
Dorothy inquired, and it must be admitted there was 
some justice in the query. 

“Perhaps Miss Howland will tell us,” said Lucile, 
and Marjorie declared it “the only sensible suggestion 
yet !” 

“What’s that?” Miss Howland asked, rousing her- 
self from an abstraction that had not been unpleasant, 
judging from the happy face she turned to the girls. 

“Marjorie was just asking how we were to get to 
the river,” Lucile repeated. 

“Why we just follow the road,” answered Miss 
Howland. “After we turn the bend, it slopes grad- 
ually until we reach the level of the valley. Do you 
see that little stretch of road way down there?” she 
asked, indicating what appeared to be a narrow path 


80 Lucile 

winding down the side of the hill. ‘‘Well, that is only 
a continuation of the one we are on.’’ 

“But it seems so far away,” Evelyn objected. 

“It does look like quite a distance,” Miss Howland 
admitted. “But it isn’t as far as it looks. In fact, 
after we begin the descent it is only about half a 
mile.” 

The girls marveled at this, for if they had been 
asked to guess the distance, they would have judged 
it not less than two miles, perhaps more. Finally 
Lucile spoke. 

“I suppose it must seem far to us because we are so 
much higher.” 

“That is it, of course,” agreed Miss Howland ; then 
as they turned a bend in the road, she added : “See, the 
road slopes down like that, twisting and turning until 
it reaches the valley.” 

The girls gazed before them at this fresh delight. 
For a distance, perhaps, of two or three hundred 
yards the road lay straight before them, then turned 
to the right until it was hidden by a wealth of trees 
and brilliant foliage. Everywhere were wild flowers 
— flowers, as Lucile said, “that begged to be gath- 
ered.” 


A Glorious Surprise 81 

Gladly would the girls have lingered in this delight- 
ful spot, but when Miss Howland reminded them that 
camp had to be made before dark, they tore themselves 
away and went on. Never did they forget the rest of 
that journey to camp. The road twisted and turned 
continually, and each time they rounded a bend they 
thought the view disclosed more beautiful than the 
last. 

Once, just before they reached the valley, they stum- 
bled on a brook — a noisy little brook that went bab- 
bling merrily on its way through the woods, and the 
girls thought they heard in its tinkling laughter a 
merry challenge to “come along too.'’ 

“Perhaps we can make up a little scouting party 
some day and if we do it would be a nice idea to fol- 
low the brook,” said Miss Howland. 

“Really?” cried Lucile. “And we could take our 
lunch and be gone all day,” she said with sudden in- 
spiration. 

“Oh, could we, Miss Howland?” they cried. 

“There’s not a reason in the world why we could- 
n’t,” said Miss Howland, merrily, and the girls 
laughed from a sheer overflow of happiness. 

Soon they came upon the two farm wagons stand- 


82 


Lucile 


ing empty in the road. As they approached, Jim, 
as the boy called himself, and his companion emerged 
from the forest. 

“We’ve put everything where you told us to, miss,” 
said the former, addressing Miss Howland. “Is there 
anything more, miss?” 

“No, I think that’s all and thank you for the trouble 
you’ve taken,” said Miss Howland. 

“No trouble at all, miss,” deprecated the boy. In 
another minute he had whipped up his horse and 
was rattling down the road, a fantastically pathetic 
figure in his flying rags. 

“Who is he. Miss Howland?” asked Lucile, as a 
bend of the road hid him from view. “He has a fine 
face.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” said Miss Howland, ap- 
provingly. “He is an orphan and has gone to work 
for a miserly farmer, who won’t even give him decent 
clothes to wear in return for his services,” and her 
eyes flashed, indignantly. 

“But why does he stay there?” Jessie inquired. “I 
should think he’d try to get another place if they don’t 
treat him well where he is.” 

''That is easier said than done,” answered Miss 


A Glorious Surprise 83 

Howland. “Most of the farmers have more hands 
than they know what to do with, and if they didn’t, 
they have no need for a boy. Well, there’s no use 
making ourselves miserable,” she said, as her old 
bright, cheery smile flashed out again. “Especially 
as we have a good deal of work to do before dark. 
Come along,” and she led the way along a narrow 
foot-path that seemed to penetrate into the very heart 
of the woods. 

Farther and farther they went, pushing aside the 
tangled undergrowth until they caught a glimpse 
through the trees of a smooth expanse of water, gleam- 
ing and sparkling in the bright afternoon sunlight. 

“That must be it,” whispered Jessie, gripping Lu- 
cile’s arm, excitedly. “Oh, Lucy, we are actually here 
at last!” 

“It looks like it,” Lucile agreed, happily, and a mo- 
ment later they emerged from the woods and looked 
eagerly about them. 

From where they stood, the ground, almost bare of 
trees at this point, sloped gradually down to the 
water’s edge. To the south, a miniature isthmus pro- 
jected into the water and hid that portion of the river 
from view. But in front stretched the gleaming river 


84 


Lucile 


— its cool, translucent depths showing green against 
the darker background of foliage, while here and there 
the rigid outline was broken by the sharp points of 
many islands. 

‘‘Oh, Miss Howland,’' Margaret cried, turning to 
her guardian a face aglow with feeling. “It is all 
so very wonderful,” and in those few words she per- 
fectly expressed the wonder and delight that held them 
all enthralled. 

But almost on the instant there came to the girls 
the same thought. “Oh, if we only had a boat to 
launch on that beautiful river. It’s only an aggrava- 
tion to look at the water when we can’t go out on it.” 

Miss Howland understood and read the thought 
as she stood looking down upon them, with a flush 
on her cheek and a sparkle in her eye. 

“Suppose we cross the little isthmus,” she said, 
after a minute. “We are going to make camp on the 
other side.” 

“I was wondering where the things were,” said Lu- 
cile, striving to put aside gloomy thoughts. 

The attempt was not wholly successful at first, and 
the little group followed their guardian almost in si- 
lence. By the time they had passed half way across 


A Glorious Surprise 85 

the narrow stretch of land, they had regained most 
of their spirits and by the time they had reached the 
other side the sun was fairly out. 

“And all this side of the isthmus for the distance of 
a mile,” Miss Howland was saying, “belongs to us 
for the next two months.” 

The girls glanced toward the water, stopped, looked 
back again, and then gazed at one another in open- 
mouthed astonishment. Were they dreaming or had 
their senses played them a trick? 

There, before their very eyes, swaying rhythmically 
with the gentle swell of the ripples, lay a veritable 
fleet of canoes. 

Standing there, hardly daring to believe the evi- 
dence of their eyes, the girls were divided between two 
emotions. They wanted to rush forward, to grasp the 
canoes and make sure they were real — ^yet, for a mo- 
ment they hesitated, swayed by the vague fear that if 
they moved, the spell would be broken and the ca- 
noes, so magically conjured there, would fade into 
thin air and be gone. 

It was only a moment they hesitated, however, for 
the next instant Jessie broke the silence with a shout. 

“Girls,” she cried, “don't stand there like a lot of 


86 Lucile 

wooden Indians ! Can’t you see that they are canoes, 
real canoes?” 

“B-but,” Dorothy stammered, “how did they get 
here? They can’t walk.” 

“What difference does it make as long as they are 
here. I don’t care how they got here,” and Jessie 
started on a run toward the water. 

“Come on, girls,” cried Lucile, following Jessie’s 
lead. “We aren’t dreaming — I know, because I just 
pinched myself. Those are sure enough canoes !” 

Down they raced to the water’s edge — all except 
Margaret, who followed more slowly with Miss How- 
land. 

The canoes did not fade away and vanish at their 
approach as they more than half expected, but proved 
to be the real thing — good substantial craft that it 
would take many a hard blow to disable. 

This new development, coming, as it did, on the 
very heels of their former depression, caused the in- 
evitable reaction. They went wild with excitement 
and nearly fell into the water several times in their 
frantic efforts to get the canoes on shore for a careful 
examination. 

“But we don’t even know they belong to us,” cried 


A Glorious Surprise 87 

Lucy, sitting back on her heels and looking about her. 
The girls regarded her in dismay. 

“Yes,” said Dorothy. “Here we’ve been taking 
everything for granted and they probably aren’t ours 
at all.” 

Marjorie jumped to her feet. “I’m going to ask 
Miss Howland,” she said, decidedly. 

Then it was that Lucile made the all-important dis- 
covery. 

“Girls, come here, quick,” she shouted. “Look, 
this one has Dorothy’s name on the bow, ‘Ramona.’ ” 

There was a wild rush and the girls saw the marvel 
with their own eyes. 

“Then they do belong to us,” cried Evelyn. “Oh, 
girls, what more is going to happen to us to-day?” 

“There’s mine,” Jessie broke in. 

“And mine,” cried Gertrude. 

“Look, they have called the great war canoe, 
‘Aloea,’ ” cried Margaret, her face radiant. 

“But who are ‘they,’ ” said Lucile, voicing the 
thought that had begun to force its way through their 
excitement. 

“Yes, where did the canoes come from?” echoed 
Jessie. 


88 Lucile 

‘‘Miss Howland, was it you?'' cried Dorothy, 
springing up and turning to her guardian. 

“No," said Miss Howland, and the twinkle in her 
eye deepened as she watched amazement steal over 
their faces. “I had nothing whatever to do with it. 

“Nothing whatev " Marjorie repeated. “Well, 

then who did?" she finished, abruptly. 

“I’ll give you three guesses," answered Miss How- 
land, enjoying herself immensely, “and whoever 
guesses correctly will have the privilege of launching 
her canoe first." 

“It couldn't have come from National Headquar- 
ters?" Lucile hazarded. 

“No," came the answer. 

“Was it old Doctor Monroe?" Evelyn asked, for 
the good old doctor had evinced much interest in the 
camp-fire movement. 

“No," said Miss Howland, again. “Now, remem- 
ber, you only have one more guess," she reminded 
them. 

Hurriedly the girls thought of every one they knew, 
but rejected one after another, for some had not the 
money to spend and many of those who had, lacked 
the inclination to it. 


A Glorious Surprise 89 

Suddenly Margaret rose and, regarding Miss How- 
land with an expression of doubt and hope inter- 
mingled, said, so softly that only those nearest could 
hear — “Was it — could it be my father?’’ 

“You are right, Margaret, dear,” said Miss How- 
land, drawing the little figure toward her. “It was 
Judge Stillman!” 

“Judge Stillman!” they cried, incredulously, and 
then, even as the thought crossed her mind, Evelyn 
added, “Why, Margaret must have known!” 

Margaret flushed red with anger. “I knew nothing 
about my father’s plans,” she said, drawing herself 
up, proudly, “but I do know my father!” 

The girls were silenced. Before them arose a vision 
of Judge Stillman as they had come to think of him — 
proud, silent, austere, pursuing his own solitary path 
and seemingly oblivious to the friendship or hatred of 
those about him. And yet he had done this thing — 
had given them twelve perfect canoes for no apparent 
reason — except, perhaps, in return for their befriend- 
ing his crippled daughter. 

Suddenly Lucile rose and cried, “Let’s give three 
cheers for Judge Stillman, friend of the camp-fire 
girls.” 


90 


Lucile 


The cheers were given with enthusiasm, and then 
the girls fell upon Margaret and hugged her until she 
gasped for mercy. 

'^Oh, Margaret, you are lucky,’’ cried Lucile. ‘‘Now 
you can be the first one to try the canoe.” 

“Do hurry!” cried Marjorie. “I can’t wait to feel 
the paddle in my hand and maybe Miss Howland will 
let us all go after you,” and she looked imploringly 
at her guardian. 

“I don’t know but what we’d better postpone our 
pleasure until after the work is done,” said Miss How- 
land. “It’s getting late, and if we expect to make 
camp and get anything to eat before ten o’clock to- 
night, we’ll have to begin right away.” 

The girls saw the wisdom of the decision, but it was 
with many a reluctant glance backward that they fol- 
lowed their guardian up the embankment toward the 
great, canvas-covered pile that was to be their shelter 
for the summer. 

“The sooner we get at it, the sooner it will be done,” 
remarked Lucile — and get at it they did, with a vigor 
that delighted Miss Howland and surprised them- 
selves. 

Lucile was working busily over a stubborn knot 


A Glorious Surprise 91 

that refused to come undone, when Miss Howland 
touched her on the shoulder. She straightened up and 
shook the hair out of her eyes. 

‘‘That’s pretty hard work,” she said, drawing a long 
breath. “I thought the knot was there for good.” 

“You’ve been doing wonders,” said Miss Howland, 
approvingly. “In another half hour we ought to be 
all through. But I think you and your squad had 
better stop work now and start the supper. I imagine 
very little of it will go begging to-night,” she added 
with a twinkle in her eye. 

It was not long before a savory odor from the di- 
rection of the mess tent was setting the girls wild with 
anticipation, and when at last Lucile announced that 
“supper was ready,” there was a concerted rush for 
the “good things.” 

The supper was delicious and the girls ate rave- 
nously. 

“It tastes awfully good,” said Dorothy, “only I 
keep thinking of the canoes all the time and I can’t 
half enjoy it.” 

The dusk was fast fading into night when the girls 
ran lightly down to the water’s edge and waited ea- 
gerly for Margaret to make the start. 


92 


Lucile 


“Don’t go any further than the bend,” Miss How- 
land was saying. “And whatever you do, keep close 
to the shore.” 

Then the graceful little craft stole silently from the 
shore, moving lightly along the still water. At the 
bend of the river Margaret obediently turned the ca- 
noe and headed it for the landing. 

“How was it?” cried Dorothy, when she came 
within hearing distance. 

“Oh, it’s great,” Margaret called back. “Why 
don’t you all try it?” 

The girls looked questioningly at Miss Howland. 
“I guess we needn’t wait any longer,” she said. 

Joyfully, the girls tumbled into the canoes and 
pushed them away from the shore. 

“Isn’t it steady ?” marveled Jessie. “My cousin, 
Donald — you remember him, don’t you, Lucy? 
^ — Donald has a sixteen footer and its awfully 
wobbly.” 

“Yes, a foot makes a great big lot of difference,” 
said Lucile. 

As they floated, the soft night settled down and 
made of the world a place of shadows and mystery. 
Then one by one the stars appeared and their myriad 


A Glorious Surprise 93 

reflections danced and shimmered in the mystic depths 
of the river. 

“I never thought I’d live to reach the stars,” Lu- 
cile whispered to Miss Howland. “But to-night 
they’re all within our reach,” and she touched a star 
with the tip of her paddle, sending it into a hundred 
points of glancing light. 

“Ah, but that is the mistake we all make too often,” 
said Miss Howland, softly. “We reach out blindly 
to grasp the reflected star, only to realize too late the 
mistake we have made.” 

Lucile glanced at her guardian in surprise and fan- 
cied she caught a fleeting suggestion of pain in the 
clear profile, but a second later the face Miss How- 
land turned to her wore the old cheery smile. 

When at the end of an hour they softly fastened 
the canoes and made their way to the tents, the girls 
were happy — happier than they could ever remember 
having been in all their lives. 

“And this is the end of our first day in the woods,” 
said Jessie, as she slipped in between the covers. 

“Yes, and such a day as it has been,” Lucile added, 
as she prepared to follow her example. “My one re- 
gret is that I can’t take the canoe to bed with me.” 


94 


Lucile 


‘‘You can do better than that. Why not go out and 
sleep in it?” Jessie suggested. 

“Perhaps I will some day,” answered Lucy, sleep- 
ily. 


CHAPTER VII 


LITTLE BLACK RASCAL 

‘Tucile, what is the matter? Wake up, wake 
up!’^ 

Lucile opened her eyes and looked straight into Jes- 
sie's anxious face. 

“What is it?" she asked, dazedly, for she had been 
having a strange dream and the spell of it was still 
upon her. “Surely, it can't be morning yet ?" 

“Surely it can," Jessie answered, imitating Lucile’ s 
sleepy voice to perfection. “What do you mean by 
frightening me so? I thought that you were dying. 
What was the matter — were you having a bad 
dream ?" 

“Rather," Lucile answered, evasively. 

“Well, I’m glad you are over it," she said with a 
relieved air. “I was just going to call Miss Howland 
when you woke up." 

“What time is it?" asked Lucile. “It can’t be very 
late, for I can’t hear a soul stirring." 

“It isn’t — it’s only about quarter past six. I 


95 


96 Lucile 

shouldn’t be stirring either if it weren’t for you,” 
she added reproachfully. 

‘‘Well, you needn’t blame me,” laughed Lucile. “I’m 
not responsible for what I do in my sleep. Come,” 
she added, as she caught an inviting glimpse of the 
river. “Now that we’re awake we might as well put 
on our bathing suits and take a swim. Miss Howland 
said we could because the ground slopes very gradually 
from the shore out.” 

“I suppose we might as well, since we can’t sleep 
any more,” Jessie agreed. “Guess I have your bath- 
ing suit, Lucy,” she said a moment later as she ex- 
amined the emblem on the sleeve. “LFnless you want 
to take my place and let me be fire-maker. Here, this 
is yours. See if you have mine over there.” 

“Wait a minute — yes, here it is,” after a quick rum- 
mage in her bag. “Now hurry and put it on. I’m 
crazy to see how the river will look by daylight.” 

A few minutes more and the girls emerged from the 
tent into the brilliant sunshine. 

“Whew, it’s going to be hot to-day,” cried Jessie, 
as the hot rays struck full upon them*. “If it’s this 
way now, what will it be about two o’clock this after- 
noon.” 


Little Black Rascal 


97 

“Can’t imagine,” Lucile answered. “But there is 
one thing I can imagine,” she added, starting on a run 
for the river, “and that is how the water will feel. 
Come on, Jessie, I’ll race you to the bank.” 

Needless to say Lucile got there first, for although 
camp-fire training had done much to counteract Jes- 
sie’s laziness, she would never be as fleet of foot and 
active as Lucile. 

And, oh, the water did feel so good ! Lucile could 
not remember the time when she had not loved it. 
Now as she sw^am with long, powerful strokes toward 
the bend of the river, the old, wild thrill of exultation 
surged over her and she felt as if she could swim for 
miles. All the strange, weird fancies of the night 
were swallowed up in the rushing tide of vivid reality. 
Oh, how good it felt ! 

“Wait a minute, Lucy, can’t you?” Jessie’s reproach- 
ful voice came to her faintly. “I can’t possibly keep 
up with you when you swim so fast.” 

Lucile gave a little joyful laugh. She felt that she 
could do anything on this wonderful day. “Wait 
where you are,” she called, “and I’ll swim to you. I 
want to see how long it takes me.” 

“All right,” Jessie answered. “Only hurry up, be- 


98 


Lucile 


cause you promised to teach me the ^crawl’ and the 
girls will all be down soon.’’ 

Jessie had not long to wait, for she had hardly fin- 
ished speaking when Lucile drew up beside her, shak- 
ing the water out of her eyes and gasping for breath. 

‘‘How do you do it?” Jessie cried in admiration. 
“I don’t think I could ever learn to swim the way 
you do.” 

“Oh, yes you could,” Lucile assured her. “All you 
want is practice. See, this is the way,” and she started 
off again. 

“No you don’t,” Jessie cried, catching Lucile’s foot 
as it passed her and holding on tight. “If you once 
get started you won’t come back and I will be minus 
a much-needed swimming lesson. Please, Lucy.” 

“If you will kindly release my foot. I’ll endeavor 
to favor you with the desired instruction,” said Lu- 
cile with an attempt at dignity, which, it must be ad- 
mitted, was to some extent spoiled by her extremely 
undignified position. 

The humor of the situation struck the girls at the 
same time and Jessie released the captured foot with 
a laugh. 

“Oh well, if you promise not to run away. I’ll think 


Little Black Rascal 


about it,” she said. ‘‘Now, please, Lucy, show me 
how you do it.” 

So for the next fifteen minutes Lucile patiently 
instructed her willing pupil in the art of swimming 
until at the end of that time Jessie had become quite 
proficient in the “crawl” and “side-stroke.” 

The appearance of Miss Howland and the other 
girls cut the lesson short and they rushed to their 
tent. 

“I didn’t know we had stayed so long,” whispered 
Lucile anxiously. “Now I wonder if we’ll have time 
to get breakfast before the girls are ready?” 

“Guess we will,” Jessie answered, reassuringly. 
“If they only like the water as much as we did it will 
be easy.” 

In less time than it takes to tell the girls were 
dressed and had the kettle boiling for breakfast. None 
too soon, however, for just then they heard the girls’ 
talk and laughter as they hurried to their tents to 
dress. 

“We’ll have just about time, I guess,” Lucile mut- 
tered as she hurriedly put the bacon in the pan. 

“For goodness sake, talk so a person can hear you,” 
said Jessie from the other side of the tent. “I strain 


100 


Lucile 


my ears to hear what you have to say and then, nine 
times out of ten, I can’t make it out.” 

“Oh, don’t bother me,” Lucile cried, impatiently. 
“It’s a great pity if I can’t talk to myself once in a 
while.” 

“That reminds me of a joke I heard once,” Jessie 
observed. 

“This bacon will never get done,” Lucile broke in, 
as she made a vindictive dig at the offending bacon. 
“Well, what was the joke?” she asked a minute later, 
suddenly remembering that Jessie had said something. 

“Oh, it wasn’t anything much,” Jessie answered 
in an offended tone. “I don’t know whether I’ll tell 
it to you at all now.” 

“Don’t be a goose, Jessie dear,” said Lucile, sweet- 
ly, as she placed the temptingly crisp bacon on the 
platter. “Go ahead and tell me the joke. You 
oughtn’t to mind what I say when I’m frying bacon. 
Now, what is it — quick, before the girls come! When 
they smell this there’ll be a rush.” 

“Well,” Jessie began, somewhat mollified, “it was 
about a man that got into the habit of talking to him- 
self, and he did it so much that one time a friend of his 
asked him why he did it. He answered that once in 


Little Black Rascal 101 

a while he had a desire to talk to a sensible man and 
hear a sensible man talk.” 

“My case exactly,” Lucile laughingly affirmed, as 
she put the last finishing touches to the breakfast. 
“Here they are now,” she added, as voices were heard 
coming toward the tent. “We are just in the nick of 
time.” 

After breakfast Miss Howland informed the girls 
that she thought they would spend this one day in 
looking around them and exploring the neighboring 
country. 

“If you like,” she finished, “we can take some lunch 
and follow the little brook we passed yesterday.” 

The girls were enthusiastic and soon were rushing 
around under their guardian’s direction, intent on 
leaving everything shipshape. 

When at last Miss Howland declared the camp 
“spotless,” they picked up the two large baskets, filled 
to the top with delicious eatables, and filed away 
through the woods. 

“I wish we could use the canoes in the brook,” 
Dorothy remarked, with a regretful glance over her 
shoulder in their direction. 

“Some day we will take a canoe trip across the river 


102 Liicile 

and visit some of the islands,” Miss Howland prom- 
ised. 

“Won’t that be great !” cried Evelyn, delightedly. 

“It seems as if every day we have something better 
to look forward to than we did the day before,” Mar- 
garet sighed, contentedly, and the girls all agreed with 
her. 

After a short tramp they reached the brook and 
stopped to give Margaret a much-needed rest. While 
they waited, their delighted gaze followed the merry 
stream of water as it wound its busy way into the 
very heart of the woods. 

“It is pretty,” exclaimed Marjorie, after a moment’s 
contemplation, and Lucile added with all her heart, 
“It’s the prettiest thing I ever saw!” 

And then they picked up the baskets once more and 
prepared to follow where it led. 

“Have you ever been through this far. Miss How- 
land ?” asked Jessie, when they had gone some distance 
along the path. 

“Oh, yes, much farther than this,” Miss Howland 
answered. “In fact, I don’t think we shall penetrate 
into the part of the woods that I am not familiar with. 
But,” she added with a smile, noticing the expression 


Little Black Rascal 


103 


of disappointment that shadowed the bright faces, “I 
think that when you see how much of the forest I 
know, you will be glad enough to turn back. Look 
there,’' she cried, as a tiny brown rabbit scurried along 
the path and disappeared in the undergrowth, ‘‘the 
woods are full of those little creatures.” 

“Isn-t it dear?” cried Lucile, as she parted the 
bushes and started in’ pursuit. “Come, bunny — come, 
bunny,” she cried. 

“As if that would be likely to bring him out of his 
burrow,” Marjorie sniffed. “You surely don’t expect 
to catch him, do you, Lucy?” 

“No, but I have caught something else,” cried Lu- 
cile, excitedly, and as if to give verity to her words, 
there came to the ears of the astonished girls a short, 
sharp bark. 

They looked at one another in perplexity, and then 
they all turned to Miss Howland. 

But their guardian had already started after Lu- 
cile, and they had no alternative but to follow, which 
they did readily. 

What they saw a moment later made them gasp. 
Down on her knees in the grass was Lucile, with her 
arms around a shaggy, wriggling little animal that 


104 Lucile 

was by this time giving utterance to a series of short, 
excited barks. 

‘‘Let me take the dog, Lucile,” Miss Howland was 
saying, and her voice was stern. 

Without a word Lucile gathered up the black, curly 
ball and handed him to Miss Howland. The little 
dog settled himself comfortably and his barks gave 
place to a soft, whining sound as he snuggled his head 
against her shoulder. Miss Howland stroked the shin- 
ing black coat gently, but when she spoke it was in a 
tone new to the girls. ^ 

“I want it to be understood,” she said, quietly, “that 
in the future no one of you is ever to touch a stray 
dog without my permission. Of course,” she con- 
tinued more gently, “in this case the dog is so small 
that he could do little or no harm, and if I were in the 
habit of allowing exceptions to my rules, this case 
would supply an instance. However, as I’m not, the 
only thing to do is to leave all dogs, large and small, 
alone.” 

During the entire speech the girls had regarded 
their guardian with a look in which there were 
blended wonder, admiration and a new respect. For 
a moment after she had finished there was a deep 


Little Black Rascal 


105 


silence, broken by Lucile, as she said, earnestly, will 
remember.” They were only three words, but Miss 
Howland was satisfied. 

“Well,” she said in a lighter tone, “now that that 
question is settled we might as well turn our attention 
to this little mischief-maker,” indicating the little black 
bunch of contentment in her arms. 

It was as if the sun had suddenly burst through a 
cloud on a stormy day. The girls found their tongues 
once more and crowded around Miss Howland, strok- 
ing the dog, wondering at the glossy silkiness of his 
coat and speculating largely on every possible explana- 
tion of how such an extremely small mite of a dog 
came to be wandering alone in the dense woods with 
no visible owner. 

“He must belong to somebody,” said Lucile, a puz- 
zled frown on her pretty face. “See, he has a collar,” 
and pulling aside the thick hair, she disclosed the al- 
most hidden strip of leather. 

Miss Howland examined the collar with interest. 
“It has the letter J scratched on the plate,” she an- 
nounced, after a moment’s close scrutiny. “But the 
question is how we are going to find out whether J 
stands for the name of the dog or his owner.” 


106 


Lucile 


‘‘I suppose we’ll have to give him back to his owner 
if we can find him,” observed Jessie regretfully. 

‘‘Certainly,” Miss Howland acquiesced. “I wonder 
if he will be sorry to leave us. Will you, doggie?” 
and she gave the curly head a gentle pat. 

The dog opened one sleepy eye and wagged his bit 
of a tail so hard that the girls immediately took it for 
consent. 

“What kind of a dog is it. Miss Howland?” Evelyn 
asked, as they started off once more. 

“He isn’t much of anything just at present,” Miss 
Howland answered, smilingly. “But he gives prom- 
ise of being a fine water spaniel one of these days, 
when he grows up.” 

“A water spaniel,” Jessie cried. “Oh, wouldn’t he 
be a fine dog to keep in camp ? We could paddle him 
around in the canoes and have lots of fun.” 

“If only he didn’t have a collar,” Dorothy mourned, 
with a gigantic sigh that seemed to come from the very 
depths of her soul. 

“Don’t feel as bad as all that about it,” laughed 
Marjorie, throwing her arm about Dorothy’s shoul- 
ders. “All we have to do is to take it off, you know.” 

Just at that moment the puppy evinced a very 


Little Black Rascal 107 

strong desire to stand on its own short legs, so Miss 
Howland set him on the ground while the girls 
watched with interest to see what he would do next. 

With a vigorous shake of his round body that nearly 
made him lose his balance, the dog put his nose to the 
ground and trotted off into the woods. 

At a signal from Miss Howland, the girls started 
to follow, when they were arrested by a shrill whistle 
that seemed to come from the woods somewhere to the 
right of them. 

Startled, they looked as always to Miss Howland 
for directions. 

‘‘Stay here,’’ she commanded in a low tone, “till 
we see what this means.” 

She had scarcely finished speaking when there came 
a series of sharp, joyous barks, followed by a shouted 
exclamation of delight. 

“So ye’ve come at last, ye rascal,” cried an excited 
masculine voice. “I thought sure this time I’d lost ye. 
Where have ye been all the time while your master’s 
been scourin’ the woods for ye? Answer me, now.” 

Then followed a pause, during which the dog 
seemed trying to follow his master’s direction, judg- 
ing from the noise. 


108 


Lucile 


‘‘It’s all very well for ye to be tellin’ me all that,” 
the voice continued, “but I don’t believe it — not one 
word of it. Now, what be ye up to, runnin’ round 
in rings an’ lookin’ up to me so invitin’ like. Want me 
to follow ye — that what ye’re up to? Well, have it 
your own way, as long as ye don’t git lost agin. Lead 
away, old feller. I’m followin’.” 

During the last of this monologue the voice had 
been coming nearer and nearer to the spot where the 
girls had halted, and now the bushes were pushed 
aside and the owner of the voice confronted them. 

The girls gasped with astonishment, for the red 
hair, the tattered clothing, but, most of all, the clear, 
steady, gray eyes could belong to none other than 
the boy who had driven their luggage to the river the 
day before. 

But if the girls had been surprised at this sudden 
apparition, Jim was literally stupefied at the sight of 
Miss Howland and her following. 

“Wh-what,” he stammered, while his face slowly 

reddened. “I-I-beg your pardon. I didn’t know ” 

and his voice trailed off into silence. 

Miss Howland quickly came to his rescue. “Is this 
your dog, Jim?” she asked. “We found him just a 


Little Black Rascal 109 

little time ago and have been wishing we could find 
the owner.” 

‘‘Yes, Tm his master,” Jim answered, adding, with 
a broad smile, “at least I am when he isn’t lost. Jed 
never was a stay-at-home.” 

“Oh, is that what the J stands for on his collar?” 
Lucile cried impulsively. 

“Yes,” he answered again, this time venturing to 
look at his questioner. “I named him that when I 
found him, just a wee mite of a puppy over to Trotter 
Crossing. He was nigh dead with the cold and hun- 
ger, so I took him home and fed him. Come here, 
Jed,” and after a wistful glance in Miss Howland’s 
direction, the little dog ambled up to his master and 
stood ready for some petting. 

“Good-by, Jed,” said Miss Howland, “I will have 
to ask your master to bring you over to see us once in 
a while, so we won’t feel that we have quite lost you.” 

“Oh, I do wish we could keep him,” said Jessie to 
Lucile in an undertone. “It seems too bad to give him 
up so soon.” 

The boy raised the little dog in his arms and stood 
stroking the shining coat tenderly, while he glanced 
from one to the other of the regretful faces before 


110 Lucile 

him. Several times he seemed about to speak and 
then thought better of it. 

Finally he spoke haltingly, with his eyes upon the 
ground, as if weighing every word before he spoke it : 
‘‘As long as you have found him and he seems to have 
taken such a fancy to you,’’ here he glanced at Miss 
Howland with a fleeting, uncertain smile, “perhaps 
you would like to keep him at the camp with you?” 

Surprised delight ran through the little ring of girls 
like an electric current, but their faces fell again as 
Miss Howland answered, gravely: “It is one of the 
finest and most unselfish offers I have ever listened to, 
Jim, and we all thank you heartily for it, but of course 
we could not think of accepting. Why, you dear boy, 
do you think for a minute that we could rob you of 
your little pet that you have cared for so faithfully 
and take him where you could see him only occasion- 
ally, if at all?” 

“Oh, but I want you to take him,” the boy broke 
in eagerly; “it was kind of hard to think of leavin’ 
him at first, but I’ll at least know that he has a good 
home and that he’ll be wanted.” 

“But surely you want him,” Evelyn broke in. 

“Yes, miss, to be sure / want him, but there be 


Little Black Rascal 111 

others around and about the farm that don’t. But 
wont ye please take him,” he begged, again appealing 
to Miss Howland. ‘I’d be so pleased if ye wud !” 

“Well, if you’re sure you want us to have the little 
fellow,” Miss Howland answered, with her winning 
smile, “we will be very glad to take him, for we need 
a dog about the camp. He’s rather small at present, 
but he will grow. Won’t you stay and have luncheon 
with us, Jim?” indicating the baskets. “Judging from 
the position of the sun it must be very near high noon. 
At least it is high time we all had something to eat.” 

And so it was settled that Jed was to become defi- 
nitely a part of the camp-fire company. They made a 
merry party at lunch that day, as the girls sat around 
in a circle, Jim and Jed occupying the place of honor 
at Miss Howland’s right, and the delicious eatables 
that disappeared so fast spread on the snowy cloth in 
the center. The girls declared that Jed was by far 
the best mannered of the whole company. 

“Why he sat up there just like a human and never 
barked or made any fuss unless Jim told him to speak,” 
Lucile observed later, when they were talking over the 
events of the day. “Oh, he is the dearest — the best- 
behaved — the very cutest little dog — ever,” each en- 


112 Lucile 

dearing epithet emphasized by a hug of the black bun- 
dle in her lap. 

After lunch they gathered up the remains of the 
feast and Jim said good-by to his pet. 

‘‘And you will let me come to see him once in a 
while?” the boy turned back to ask, wistfully. 

“Yes, indeed. Come as often as you like,” Miss 
Howland answered cordially; “we shall always be 
very glad to see you.” 

Jim murmured a, “thank you,” and stumbled off 
through the woods without even a backward glance. 

“Perhaps he was afraid to look back,” Margaret 
speculated as they started on their way* again, “for 
fear he might be tempted to come back and get Jed 
after all.” 

“Perhaps you are right, Margaret dear,” said Miss 
Howland, fondly; “the only way you can hope to re- 
sist temptation is to put yourself beyond its reach.” 

The girls had lingered longer than they imagined 
over the lunch, and as the sun was traveling fast to- 
ward the western horizon. Miss Howland gave the 
word to return. There were so many interesting bits 
of nature to occupy their attention that the return 
journey proved all too short. 


Little Black Rascal 


113 


“Look, there is the road right in front of us,’^ Lu- 
cile exclaimed in a disappointed tone. “I never 
thought we’d get back so quickly.” 

“Yes, it seems as if it had only taken us half the 
time to get back that it did to go,” Evelyn agreed. 

Miss Howland smiled. “I wonder what you would 
say if I should tell you that the return trip has taken 
us nearly an hour longer.” Then as the girls uttered 
an incredulous protest, she added, “If you doubt it, 
look at the sun. He is my witness,” and, sure enough, 
the sun, which had been high in the heavens when they 
started, was now fast nearing the horizon, showing 
that the long summer afternoon was at last drawing 
to a close. 

As they emerged from the cool, shadowy woods 
/"into the bright sunlight, they turned to take a final 
farewell of the friendly brook. 

Little did they think as they stood in the hot road 
on that summer afternoon that along the shining rip- 
ples of the brook would come a message full of hap- 
piness for one they loved, bringing joy to them on 
the wings of that other’s happiness. 

That night as they sat around the table, Jed hugged 
close to Lucile’s side and gratefully accepted the scraps 


114 Lucile 

of meat that she surreptitiously fed him from time to 
time. 

‘‘If you don't look out you’ll spoil him, Lucile,” 
Jessie remarked. 

“Oh, he’s too little to be spoiled,” said Lucile. 
“Anyway, nothing’s too good for him,” she added, de- 
fiantly. 

And Jed, watching her with shining eyes, thumped 
his mite of a tail upon the ground as if to say he thor- 
oughly agreed with her. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE RIVAL CAMP 

For several days after the advent of Jed into the 
camp-fire circle the girls scouted the country round 
about until, to quote Dorothy, they became familiar 
with every “stick and stone on the place ” 

And, oh, the fun they had — fishing on the banks 
of the stream in cool, shady nooks with the sun flick- 
ering through in tiny patches on the moss-covered 
ground — swimming — tramping — canoeing — all the 
healthy sports in which our sturdy American girls find 
such delight. 

The girls had been anxious to visit the islands, but 
Miss Howland had remained firm in her decision not 
to attempt the trip until the girls had become expert in 
handling their canoes. “For,” she had explained to 
them in reply to their impatience, “if anything should 
happen to any one of you, I should count myself re- 
sponsible and never hold up my head again for the rest 
of my life. So you see we must take no chances.” 

However, at their last canoe practice they had han- 

115 


116 


Lucile 


died their little crafts so skilfully that Miss Howland 
had declared they might venture to visit the islands 
sometime during the following week. 

On this particular morning a new excitement filled 
the camp. Jim had run down for one of his prom- 
ised visits and had made the astounding assertion that 
a new camp had been started just that morning on the 
other side of the river. 

A new camp ! The thought gave rise to a hundred 
eager conjectures. ‘What do they look like?” “How 
many are there?” “Who is their leader?” and a hun- 
dred like questions were fired at Jim until he stood 
there, puzzled and confused, looking dazedly from one 
to the other and rubbing his shock of sandy hair as 
if by that means he might collect his bewildered wits 
and set his brain to working. Miss Howland, noting 
his confusion, broke into the conversation. 

“Perhaps,” she said with an amused smile, “if you 
girls would ask your questions one at a time, Jim 
would be better able to answer them.” 

But this suggestion of their guardian's proved im- 
practicable, for each girl was anxious to put her ques- 
tion first, which, it will be easily understood, caused 
more trouble than before. It was Lucile who finally 


The Rival Camp 117 

solved the problem by suggesting that Miss Howland 
ask the questions. 

The latter laughingly agreed to this, saying that she 
had been interested to see how long it would take them 
to reach this sensible conclusion. 

When at last the cross-questioning was over, they 
gathered that there were twelve girls in the opposing 
camp, that their leader’s name was Miss Stevens, that 
they had arrived that morning and, as far as Jim 
knew, they intended to stay for the season. 

“But, Jim, what do they look like?” insisted Jessie, 
when they had absorbed this information. 

“As to that, miss,” Jim replied with a grin, “Fm 
sure I can’t say, not bein’ what ye might call a judge 
of the ladies.” 

“But did they look nice,” she insisted, “like us, for 
instance ?” 

“Goodness, Jessie, you don’t think anything of 
yourself, do you?” Marjorie scoffed. 

“Did they?” Jessie repeated, ignoring the interrup- 
tion. 

“Why, yes, it seems to me they did,” Jim an- 
swered, giving the matter as grave consideration 
as if it had been of life or death importance. 


118 Lucile 

‘‘Y-yes, I should say they looked like very nice young 
ladies.” 

Just then Jed came rollicking up to his erstwhile 
master still wet from his swim, for although he was 
so young a dog, he could swim as well as any of the 
girls. 

“Hello, Jed,” cried Jim, boisterously greeting his 
old playmate, evidently relieved to find himself again 
on familiar ground. “YeYe sure gettin’ to be a big 
feller. Jed, boy,” as the dog circled around, barking 
joyfully and making little, ineffectual dabs at Jim’s 
feet, “why, I declare, ye seem almost glad to see yer 
old friend. Come here an’ tell me what ye been doin’ 
since I see ye last.” 

But he was not to be let off so easily, for the girls 
continued to ply him with questions, the answers to 
which he could not possibly under any conditions be 
expected to know, until Miss Howland put a stop to it 
all by reminding them that it was time for canoe prac- 
tice. 

For the first time since they had come into posses- 
sion of the canoes, they reluctantly turned to the prac- 
tice. 

However, they soon became interested and did so 


The Rival Camp 119 

well that Miss Howland admitted a great improve- 
ment. 

“You are doing splendidly, girls,’' she commended 
them, heartily, “and I am now positively sure that 
we can visit the island next week. Perhaps if the im- 
provement continues, we’ll be able to make the trip 
even sooner than I planned.” 

Thus encouraged the girls went to their work with 
redoubled energy and for the time almost forgot the 
new camp. 

After lunch Lucile and her squad, consisting of Jes- 
sie, Dorothy and Evelyn, started for the village for 
the necessary provisions. 

It was a beautiful day and the girls, always glad of 
any excuse that took them through the woods, pre- 
pared for their walk right merrily. Although by this 
time they were all familiar with the woodland sights 
and sounds, they never tired of them. The chattering 
of the squirrels among the trees, the monotonous tap- 
tap of the woodpecker, the plaintive cry of a Bob- White 
to his mate or the crack of a twig as a startled rabbit 
flashed by — all these were ever new and never failed 
to charm. 

So, with every sense alert to the wonders about 


120 Lucile 

them, our four girls swung along the path on the way 
to the village. 

They had covered quite a stretch of ground when 
the rest were startled by an exclamation from Jessie, 
who had lingered in the rear to gather some wild 
flowers. 

“Look,” she cried, “here comes Jeddie, and we told 
him expressly to stay at home. Oh, you naughty 
dog,” she cried, waving a threatening forefinger at 
the offender, who, we must reluctantly admit, seemed 
not a whit ashamed of himself. However, noticing 
that Jessie did not welcome his advances very kindly, 
he trotted up to Lucile, his tail beating the air violently 
and appeal in his imploring eyes. 

“Oh, Jeddie, Jeddie,” said Lucile in that more-in- 
sorrow-than-in-anger tone of voice that sent her hear- 
ers into gales of merriment, “do you think it’s nice 
to follow us this way when I asked you to stay in 
camp?” Then suddenly her voice changed to 
stern reprimand and she turned on the little dog 
with a ferocity that made the girls jump. “Stop 
wagging your tail this minute, sir,” she ordered. 
“You are a bad, mischievous, naughty dog, and just 
for disobeying me you won’t be allowed to get into 


The Rival Camp 121 

a canoe for a whole weekT this last with terrible 
emphasis. 

And never did little dog look more crestfallen and 
disconsolate as he turned away, with tail tucked be- 
tween his legs, to obey Lucile’s command to “go 
home.’' Twice he turned to look back imploringly, 
but always that inexorable finger pointed toward 
camp. At last, a picture of utter dejection, he circled 
a bush and was lost to view. 

“Oh, Lucile, how could you?” Jessie began, but 
Lucile did not hear her, for she was already run- 
ning down the path in the direction the little dog 
had taken. 

“Jeddie, boy,” she called, “come back! It’s all 
right now. Come back I” 

And around the corner came bounding a little dark 
streak that rushed up to Lucile joyfully, all out of 
breath and barking wildly. 

Lucile picked him up and held him at arms’ length, 
while he tried vainly to reach her face with his pink 
tongue. 

“And did you really think I meant it, Jeddie?” 
asked Lucile fondly. “Of course you didn’t. Oh, 
Jed, darling, I couldn’t resist the temptation to scold 


122 


Lucile 


you — you did look so funny/' and she hugged the 
little dog until he gasped for breath. 

The girls regarded their leader for a brief second 
in amazement and then, suddenly, it all seemed so 
funny that they laughed until the tears ran down their 
faces. 

“Lucile, you ought to go on the stage," said Dor- 
othy between gasps. “Fll never again believe that 
you’re in earnest about anything after the way you 
treated poor little Jed." 

“Oh, he doesn’t mind," Lucile announced, calmly, 
as they started again. “Why, I scold him every once in 
a while just to see how funny he looks. He rather 
enjoys it — thinks it’s some kind of a new game." 

“Then you’ve been training him without saying 
anything to us?" Evelyn reproached her. 

“I didn’t need to train him," Lucile answered. 
“He’s just 'nat’ rally gifted,’ as Jim says." 

Soon they reached the village and were just enter- 
ing the grocery store for the last provisions when 
Evelyn gripped Lucile by the arm. 

“Look over there, Lucile," she whispered. “Do 
you see those girls? I shouldn’t wonder if they be- 
longed to the new camp. Look, there are two more 


The Rival Camp 123 

of them.’^ And, sure enough, just emerging from the 
post-office were four girls, who were so evidently 
newcomers that the girls felt sure they were in some 
way connected with the new camp. 

Lucile called to Jessie and Dorothy and they held 
a whispered conversation. 

^Tm not sure whether Miss Howland would want 
us to or not, but it seems to me that it is our duty to 
speak to them.’' 

^‘Our duty and our pleasure,” put in Dorothy, slyly. 

‘^Since we were here first,” added Lucile, sending 
a withering glance in Dorothy’s direction. *What 
do you think, girls?” 

“Why, I think we ought to,” Jessie answered, 
rather doubtfully. 

“Of course we should,” Evelyn decided in her busi- 
ness-like tone. “It’s the only thing to do.” 

“And I’m sure Miss Howland would speak to them 
if she were here,” Jessie added. 

For another moment Lucile hesitated, undecided 
what to do. She knew that her guardian contemplated 
visiting the other camp in a few days; for although 
it was not a camp-fire. Miss Howland wished to be on 
friendly terms with her neighbors, and it was barely 


124 Lucile 

possible that she would think it presumption on Lu- 
cile’s part to interfere. 

She was spared any further uncertainty, for even 
as she came to her decision, the girls on the post-office 
steps advanced in their direction. When they came 
within speaking distance, Lucile addressed the girl 
who was a little in advance of the others. 

“Aren’t you from the new camp ?” she asked. 

“Yes,” replied the girl. “And you belong to the 
camp-fire Aloea that everybody is talking about, don’t 
you?” 

Lucile answered in the affirmative and introduced 
herself and the other girls. When Alice Hague, for 
that was the first girl’s name, had done the same for 
her friends, the girls fell at once to comparing notes. 

“Do you like it over your side of the river?” Jessie 
questioned as they entered the store to finish their 
marketing. 

“Indeed we do,” answered one of the girls enthusi- 
astically. “I never knew there was such a beautiful 
place in the world until we came here. Of course we 
haven’t had time to look about us much yet,” she 
added. 

“But Miss Stevens has given us to-day and to-mor- 


The Rival Camp 125 

row,” Alice • explained, “to scour around before we 
settle down to any regular work.” 

“Yes,” said another, “but the more we see the more 
we want to see. It will take us several days at this 
rate to find out all we want to.” 

“But we have been here over a week now,” Evelyn 
remarked, “and we haven’t begun to see things yet. 
At that rate it’s going to take us all summer.” 

The girls laughed, and one of them noticing Jed for 
the first time, exclaimed, “Isn’t that a cute dog? Does 
it belong to you?” 

“Yes,” Lucile acknowledged fondly. “And he’s one 
of the best little dogs that ever lived — and the fun- 
niest,” she added, with a sly glance at her companions. 

“Isn’t he a darling?” said Alice, as she took Jed in 
her arms. “I shouldn’t mind having one like him my- 
self. He’s a water dog, isn’t he?” 

“Uh-huh,” Lucile answered. “We take him all over 
in the canoes and he can swim as far as you can throw 
a stick from the shore.” 

The girls marveled at this and Jed was likely to 
become more spoiled than ever with all the attention 
showered upon him. 

When they had made all their purchases, the girls 


126 


Lucile 


from both camps walked together to the bend of the 
road where they would have to separate. So inter- 
ested were the girls of the new camp in the adven- 
tures of our camp-fire girls that they found themselves 
still talking when the gathering dusk warned them 
that it was long after the time set for their return. 

Reluctantly they parted, but not without promises 
on both sides to meet again. 

Alice stopped at the bend of the road to call back 
over her shoulder, “you will be sure to come, won’t 
you ?” 

And our girls sang back, merrily, “Don’t worry 
about that. You couldn’t keep us away.” 

“Come, girls, we’ll have to hurry,” said Lucile. 
“I’m afraid Miss Howland will be worried.” 

“Oh, but isn’t it great to have those girls so near?” 
cried Jessie, following her own train of thought. “We 
ought to have whole loads of fun.” 

“I guess we ought,” said Evelyn; “they seem to be 
such nice girls, too. How did you like them, Jeddie?” 

The girls had formed the habit of asking Jed his 
opinion on various subjects, just to see him look wise 
and wag his tail knowingly as if to say, “Quite right, 
I agree with you.” But this time for answer he gave 


The Rival Camp 127 

a sharp bark and made a dash for a little gray squir- 
rel that scurried across the path almost under his nose. 

A moment later the squirrel was perched on a low 
branch, scolding violently, with Jed making ineffec- 
tual leaps at the quarry, sometimes landing on his feet, 
but more often on his nose. 

“Jed, don’t be silly,” cried Lucile. “You’ll have 
your poor little nose bumped off if you don’t stop.” 

Jed immediately desisted, and solaced himself by 
chasing an attractive butterfly. When it alighted on 
a bush near by, he made a dash for it, and when, with 
a lazy motion of its wings, it flew beyond his reach, 
he looked so puzzled and distressed that the girls fairly 
ached with laughter. 

“Oh, Jeddie, Jeddie, you’re more fun than a circus !” 
cried Evelyn. 

Needless to say, they reached camp a good deal later 
than usual, and the girls surrounded them, demanding 
to know where they had been. 

“We’ll have to tell Miss Howland first,” said Lucile, 
and ran off to make confession. 

“You did wrong to stay so long,” said Miss How- 
land, when she had listened attentively to the recital. 
“But you were perfectly justified in addressing the 


128 


Lucile 


girls, since you were the first comers. In fact, you 
couldn’t have done anything else.” 

‘That’s almost exactly what Evelyn said,” Lucile 
admitted; “but I was afraid you might not like it.” 

Although the girls were eager to hear the news at 
once. Miss Howland reminded them that the place for 
reports was the camp-fire, and so they had to wait till 
then with what patience they could muster. 

After supper the camp-fire was kindled and one by 
one the girls seated themselves around it. Impa- 
tiently they waited while Miss Howland called the roll 
and the girls made their reports of the duties and 
pleasures that had made up their day. 

When at last Lucile was called and asked for her 
report, the girls drew a long sigh of relief and leaned 
forward, expectantly. 

Lucile told the story at length, not even omitting 
Jed’s part in it, and she soon had the girls in gales of 
laughter. 

“Oh, I wish we could go to-morrow,” said Mar- 
jorie, when the tale was finished. “I think I’d like 
those girls.” 

Soon afterward they sang their closing song and 
walked away in couples toward their tents, talking 


The Rival Camp 129 

animatedly about ‘‘what they would do with the 
campers/’ 

After they had all gone Lucile and Jessie lingered 
to put out the fire and leave everything in order. 

For a moment before they smothered the glowing 
embers they stood side by side, arm in arm, gazing 
thoughtfully into the fire. 

To them came the faint cry of night birds and the 
gentle lap of ripples as they broke upon the bank. 
Now and then a twig cracked and a flame darted 
weirdly up into the shadows. 

“It’s just as we dreamed it would be,” Jessie whis- 
pered. 

“Only better,” Lucile agreed, as she stooped to 
cover the glowing coals with ashes. 


CHAPTER IX 


‘‘many a slip’' 

Lucile had at last reached her goal of torch-bearer. 
Her honor chain was long, and the beads had all the 
colors of the rainbow. There were blue beads, won 
by her extensive knowledge of nature lore. She had 
studied very patiently and faithfully under Miss How- 
land’s tutelage, and now had reaped her reward. Side 
by side with the blue were the red beads, silent 
testimonials of her perfect health, and these were 
interspersed with others of green and brown. But 
those that she most prized were her flame-beads, 
symbols of homecraft. Once, just before they had 
left for Mayaro, her father had put his arms 
around her fondly and called her his “little house- 
keeper.” How happy and proud she had been that 
day, almost happier, she told herself, than on this day 
of days, as she lay with sleepy eyes fixed upon the 
river. 

“Lucy, are you awake?” called Jessie, softly. 


130 


“Many a Slip” 131 

“Yes, have been for the last half hour,’’ answered 
Lucile. 

“So have I,” yawned Jessie. “What have you been 
doing all this time 

“Oh, just lying here being happy and trying to 
realize my good luck.” 

“It must seem great to you,” said Jessie. “Here 
Fve only got honors enough to call myself a fire- 
maker, and yet I feel all funny.” 

“Funny,” echoed Lucile, raising herself on her el- 
bow and gazing questioningly at her friend. “What 
do you mean, funny?” 

“Oh, just that,” explained Jessie, vaguely; “kind 
of creepy and chilly, don’t you know.” 

“Better take my blanket,” suggested Lucile. “It 
may be chills and fever coming on.” 

“It’s no joke,” Jessie complained. “I should think 
you’d sympathize with me, instead of getting sarcas- 
tic right away.” 

“I can’t any more than offer you the blanket,” said 
Lucile, as she threw off the covers and got up. 

“What are you doing?” asked Jessie, stretching her 
neck to bring Lucile within her range of vision, as 
she fumbled with something in the corner. 


132 


Lucile 


‘‘I’m getting out my ceremonial dress and the moc- 
casins,” was the answer. “Oh, here’s my headdress. 
I was afraid I might have left it home.” 

“Get mine out while you’re about it, won’t you?” 
asked Jessie. 

“You’d better get it yourself,” Lucile advised. “If 
you’re going to get lazy again on the very day that 
you’re to be made fire-maker. Miss Howland may 
think better of it and keep the bracelet.” 

Jessie got up with alacrity. 

“All right, if you’re so mean — say, Lucy, did you 
forget we were to see the island to-day?” and she 
paused with her bag half-open to gaze at her friend. 

“So we are,” cried Lucile, joyfully. “Oh, Jessie, 
it’s going to be a wonderful day,” and she hugged her 
companion ecstatically. 

“Look, here’s my count,” she said, a moment later, 
bringing up a big brown book. “We’ve been so busy 
that I haven’t had time to fill it all out.” 

“Here’s mine, too,” said Jessie, “Let’s look them 
over together.” 

So they sat down on the soft grass outside the tent 
and reveled in memories, until the sound of voices 
warned them that it was time for their dip. 


133 


“Many a Slip” 

After that all was bustle and preparation. About 
ten o'clock they placed the baskets of provisions in the 
canoes, and were just ready to follow when Lucile 
cried : 

“Where's Jed? I don't remember having seen him 
this morning." 

“Yes, and we want to take him with us to-day of all 
days," added Margaret. 

As if in answer, Jim broke through the bushes and 
ran down to the water's edge. Immediately he was 
assailed with questions as to whether he had seen Jed 
and where he was. 

“They're trying to ask you if you've seen anything 
of Jed," Miss Howland interpreted. “We wanted to 
take him with us this morning, but he seems to have 
disappeared." 

“You must have seen him," said Marjorie, hope- 
fully. 

“Well, you see, miss, the truth is," he began, and 
then stopped, as though not knowing how to proceed. 
“Well," he blurted, “I saw Jed back yonder and I 
reckon he's purty sick." 

“Sick," chorused the girls in dismay, staring at 
Jim unbelievingly. 


134 


Lucile 


“Yes/' the boy maintained stoutly, “old Jed is purty 
sick when he don’t know his own master what sets sich 
a pow’ful store by him,” and here he choked and 
seemed greatly interested in the rim of his old straw 
hat. 

Miss Howland put her hand gently on his shoulder. 

“I don’t think there can be much the matter with 
Jed,” she said, soothingly. “He’s probably just feel- 
ing a little under the weather on account of the heat. 
But,” she added, a little anxious frown between her 
eyes, “if there’s the slightest danger of rabies, though 
I don’t suppose there is in so young a dog, we ought 
to have him tied.” 

“No, don’t do that please, miss,” the boy cried, 
earnestly. There’s no danger. I’m sure, and I’d 
rather not tie him up if you don’t mind. I’ll take care 
of him till you get back.” 

“Oh, but we wanted to take him along so much!” 
Jessie exclaimed, disappointedly. “Now half the fun 
will be spoiled.” 

“Nothing of the sort,” Lucile cried, gaily. “It’s too 
bad Jeddie can’t go, and we’re all awfully sorry that 
he’s sick, but as long as we can’t have him, we might 
as well make the best of it.” 


“Many a Slip” 


135 

“Lucile is right,” said Miss Howland. ‘^What 
can’t be cured must be endured. I’m sure there’s 
nothing serious the matter with the dog anyway,” she 
added, turning to Jim. “He’ll be all right when it 
gets cooler.” 

“I hope so, miss, only it hurts not to have him 
know me. I guess he’ll be all right, though,” he 
added, cheerily, and a few minutes later waved good- 
by to the little fleet, as it glided out on the smooth 
water. 

Then with a sigh he turned and retraced his steps, 
wearily, toward the shade of the forest. When he 
reached the spot where the little dog lay, he sat down 
beside him among the leaves. 

“You’re better off’n me, Jeddie,” he murmured 
aloud to his unconscious comrade ; “you’re better off’n 
me, boy, cause you’ll always have some one to love you 
as long as you live, for the beautiful lady is goin’ to 
take you home with her, Jeddie, and you’re all I have. 
But they’ve left you with me to-day, boy,” he said, 
leaning over to stroke the curly black head, “an’ I’m 
goin’ to make the most of it. Just you an’ me alone, 
Jeddie.” 

For a while the girls were sobered a trifle, but it 


136 Lucile 

was not long before the incident was entirely forgot- 
ten in the novelty of their new experience. 

The reflection of the sun in the water fairly dazzled 
them, but the intense heat they had felt on land seemed 
to lessen somewhat as they got farther from shore, 
and a soft breeze gently stirred the surface of the 
stream. To the overheated girls the change was very 
grateful, and they bent to their paddles with even 
more energy than before. 

“If I weren’t so anxious to get to the islands,” Mar- 
jorie called across to Lucile, “I’d be enjoying this 
more.” 

“Why not enjoy both,” answered Lucile. “I be- 
lieve in making the most of the present, although I’m 
prepared to have all the fun there is when we reach 
the island.” 

“Listen to the philosopher,” Jessie laughed. 

“She’s right just the same,” Evelyn defended. “En- 
joy the present and let the future take care of itself. 
That’s what my Dad says.” 

“Well, the future’s nearly here now,” chimed in 
Margaret, pointing to the island which they were fast 
approaching, “so you’d better enjoy the present while 
you can. You won’t have much more time to row.” 


“Many a Slip” 137 

A few minutes more and they had reached their 
destination. After trying for a landing several times, 
they finally succeeded in locating a small inlet that 
seemed just made for the purpose. 

As Miss Howland stepped out on a rock that of- 
fered safe footing, such a cheer went up as that lone 
place had never heard before. So enthusiastic were 
the girls that Miss Howland had to remind them to 
be careful or they would upset the canoes and have a 
premature ducking. 

At this admonition they subdued their overflowing 
spirits sufficiently to enable them all to land safely. 
And after the canoes had once been drawn upon the 
shore, they turned for their first good look about them. 

It is impossible to describe the indescribable. So it 
is hard to picture this island, this favored garden spot 
of nature that fairly pulsed with exuberant life and 
beauty. The giant trees bent beneath the weight of 
their foliage, and their great arms locked and inter- 
locked over the verdant ground beneath. So low did 
some of the branches droop that they almost touched 
the ground and mingled with the undergrowth that 
sprang up to meet them. Through the screen thus 
formed could be caught glimpses of a gentle ascent, 


138 Lucile 

with here and there an immense rock outlined in bold 
relief against the darker background. 

The air was filled with the music of a thousand 
birds pouring out the gladness of their hearts. Min- 
gled with the melody was the soft cadence of tiny 
rills hurrying on to join the river. Nature, dressed 
in trailing robes of beauty, reached out her hands to 
them in gracious greeting and smiled a radiant wel- 
come. 

As the girls took in the wonder of the surround- 
ings, they felt to the full the spell of the place, and 
for a long minute they stood in awed silence. But 
this could not last long, for their hearty, fun-loving 
natures were easily irked by restraint of any kind, and 
Evelyn broke the spell by exclaiming : 

^Tsn’t it great, girls? Oh, Fm just dying to climb 
that hill and find out what’s at the top.’’ 

“So am I,” replied Lucile, “but Fm sure I don’t see 
how we are going to do it. Look at those branches 
and vines and shrubs all tangled up together. How do 
you suppose we can make our way through. Miss 
Howland ?” 

Up to this time their guardian had said not a word, 
for she had been too interested in watching the effect 


“Many a Slip” 139 

produced by the island on her young charges ; but, be- 
ing thus appealed to by Lucile, she roused herself. 

“It is impossible to break through there,” she said. 
“The underbrush is tod dense and the vines are so 
strong that we’d need an axe. There is a path back 
farther, though, that leads up the hill and all we have 
to do is to follow the bank until we come to it.” 

“But I didn’t know you had been here before. Miss 
Howland,” said Margaret, looking up at her guardian 
wonderingly. 

“Yes, I’ve often visited the island with a guide so 
that I know almost every stick and stone on it. Come, 
girls, follow your leader and we’ll soon find the path,” 
and she led the way, merrily. 

Lucile and Jessie lingered a little behind the rest, as 
they had elected to help Margaret over the fallen logs 
and large rocks that often obstructed the way. 

With ever increasing gaiety, as they became more 
accustomed to the place, the girls followed their guar- 
dian, scrambling over obstacles and taking little ac- 
count of the bruises and scratches that occasionally 
claimed their toll. 

Soon they came to a small clearing, and Miss How- 
land said she thought it would be best to leave their 


140 Lucile 

baskets there while they scouted the island. This they 
were only too glad to do, for the baskets were heavy 
and impeded their progress. 

‘‘Oh, that feels good,’' said Evelyn, as she deposited 
her load on a convenient rock and stretched her 
cramped fingers. “You can’t have any fun when you 
have to drag along a thing like that.” 

“I have an idea that you’ll be glad to dispose of the 
contents a little later, though,” Miss Howland 
laughed. 

“Probably,” Lucile agreed. “In fact,” eyeing the 
basket, hungrily, “I wouldn’t very much object to 
sampling it now.” 

“Isn’t it most lunch time?” put in Jessie, hope- 
fully. 

“I’m afraid not,” answered her guardian. “It’s 
splendid to have such good appetites, but I’ll guaran- 
tee that they will be even better two hours from now, 
when we’ve had a chance to look about us.” 

“I don’t want to eat now, anyway,” Marjorie de- 
clared. “I’d be too excited and anxious to see more 
of this great little island.” 

“Oh, girls, look,” cried Evelyn, from her precarious 
perch on the very edge of a rock. “Do you see that?” 


141 


“Many a Slip” 

pointing to a queerly-shaped boat about half a mile 
off shore. “I never saw one like that before. What 
do you suppose it is?’' 

The girls crowded round and looked in the direction 
she indicated. 

“It looks like a sort of canoe and rowboat com- 
bined,” Marjorie began, when Miss Howland broke 
in : 

“Come away from the edge, Evel3m,” she com- 
manded. “The rock is slippery and it wouldn’t do you 
any good to tumble in the river.” 

But, alas ! advice sometimes comes too late, and even 
as Evelyn turned to obey, her foot slipped and she half 
fell, half slid down the steep bank into the water. 

With a cry of dismay the girls rushed to the edge 
and looking down beheld their fallen comrade stand- 
ing in water to her waist and 'shaking the drops from 
her eyes and hair, “for all the world like Jeddie after 
a swim,” Dorothy declared. 

So relieved were they to find her safe instead of 
badly hurt, as they had feared, that all they could do 
was to stand and gaze until Miss Howland and Evelyn 
herself stirred them to action. 

“Come, girls,” cried the former; “you can’t do any 


142 


Lucile 


good by standing there like mummies. Let’s form 
a chain and haul her up.” 

No sooner said than done. Miss Howland held 
firmly to a tree while the girls stretched out in a 
human chain down the bank, until the last one could 
reach Evelyn’s hand and drag her up. 

When she was at last landed safe and sound on solid 
ground again, the girls couldn’t help laughing at the 
picture she presented. Half sheepish, half defiant, 
and wholly wet and bedraggled, she stood before 
them, as though awaiting judgment. 

‘‘Oh, it’s all very well for you to laugh,” she ex- 
claimed, in an injured tone, as the girls sought to re- 
press their rising mirth, “but it isn’t as funny as it 
looks. I’m very sorry. Miss Howland,” she added; 
“I was just going to come away, but ” 

“Your foot slipped,” finished Miss Howland, while 
her eyes twinkled. 

“Oh, you did look so funny,” Lucile gasped, not 
able to hold in any longer. “If I’d only had a camera 

— if I only had — oh — oh ” and they all laughed 

until the tears ran down their cheeks, and Evelyn, 
looking at them, had perforce to join them, even at 
her own expense. 


143 


‘‘Many a Slip” 

‘‘Well,” she said, ruefully, when the girls had 
stopped from sheer exhaustion, “I shouldn't wonder 
if the joke were on me.” 

“It's lucky you had your bathing suit on anyway,'’ 
remarked Lucile, philosophically, as they prepared to 
follow the path up the hill; “and you'll be nice and 
cool now for the rest of the day.” 


CHAPTER X 


it’s fairyland! 

For nearly an hour they followed their guardian 
along the narrow, winding path, discovering a new 
wonder and delight at each step. Occasionally they 
stopped for a moment to rest, but curiosity acted as 
a spur and drove them on to fresh discovery. 

At last they reached the top of the hill and stopped 
to admire the beautiful view, for the island was shaped 
like a pyramid, and from the apex, where the girls 
now stood, the ground sloped gently down, until a 
gleam of silver marked the water line. The island 
was so thickly wooded that the sun scarcely pene- 
trated, except where, here and there, an errant sun- 
beam pitted its small light against the shadow. There 
was restful coolness in this spot when the world out- 
side was parched with heat. Over all brooded an air 
of peace, a sense of unutterable quiet and drowsiness, 
as if Nature had fallen asleep, lulled by the music of 
her rills. 


144 


It’s Fairyland! 145 

Lucile drew a long breath and reaching out her 
hand, touched Miss Howland’s sleeve, as if to assure 
herself that this was real and not a trick of her imagi- 
nation. 

“I never saw anything like this except in a dream,” 
she breathed, and then added, with a ruefulness that 
set all the girls to laughing, “I think I’m awake now, 
but I wish you girls would throw me into the river, 
just to make sure.” 

‘‘No need of using such very drastic methods,” 
laughed Miss Howland. “I can assure you that this 
is no dream island and neither are we dream people, 
but good, substantial human beings.” 

“Human beings generally have appetites,” Jessie 
added, significantly. “And I’m no exception to the 
rule.” 

“Um, I am hungry,” exclaimed Evelyn, just dis- 
covering that important fact. “When are we going 
to eat. Miss Howland?” she added, anxiously. “Isn’t 
it most time, now?” 

“Just about,” answered the guardian, reassuringly. 
“I was just going to suggest that a squad go back 
and get the lunch for us, when you discovered that 
you were hungry.” 


146 


Lucile 


‘^Oh, are we going to have our lunch here?’' ex- 
claimed Marjorie, rapturously. ‘1 was hoping we 
could, but I didn’t dare suggest it.” 

‘‘But what squad are you going to send back. Miss 
Howland ?” Lucile asked, eagerly. 

“Why I thought I’d arrange it this way. While 
one squad brings the basket, the other two may pros- 
pect in the opposite direction, with your pocket com- 
passes, of course, and while we are eating our lunch 
we’ll tell about what we’ve discovered.” 

“That’s great,” Lucile exclaimed, with shining 
eyes, for nothing was more to her taste than a ramble 
through the tangle of vines and branches. 

“I’m glad you like the idea,” said Miss Howland, 
smiling. “Suppose you, Marjorie, and your girls fol- 
low the path back to the river and get the lunch that’s 
an easy task.” 

Although not particularly relishing her part in the 
programme, Marjorie gave the salute and started off 
the way they had come. 

“And you, Lucile, may take your squad and explore 
to the east for a distance of about a quarter of a mile, 
but don’t go any farther or you can’t hear the whistle. 
I shall lead the rest of you for the same distance west. 


It’s Fairyland! 147 

That is all, except to be sure to come at the first sound 
of the whistle.” 

Lucile saluted and plunged into the woods directly 
east, as pointed out by her compass. 

“Goodness, I don^t know how ever we’re going to 
get through this tangle,” she cried, a perplexed frown 
wrinkling her pretty forehead. “The vines are so 
tough you simply can’t break them. The only thing 
to do is to lie down and wriggle through like snakes.” 

“I’d be much obliged if you wouldn’t put me in the 
same class with the reptiles,” Jessie interrupted. “You 
may so classify yourself, but as to me ” 

“Oh, Jessie, please stop,” begged Lucile, plaintively. 
“Isn’t it bad enough to have to do something that can’t 
be done, without being forced to listen to your foolish- 
ness? We can’t go back to Miss Howland and the 
girls without finding out something,” she continued, 
glancing despairingly about her to find an opening in 
the green tangle. “So the only thing we can do is to 
crawl under where we can’t break through.” 

“Yes, but suppose we find a place where we can 
neither break through nor crawl under,” suggested 
Evelyn, hopefully. 

“In that case we’d have to go back and confess 


148 


Lucile 


failure, I suppose, but we don't want to cross any 
bridges before we come to them." 

“I only wish we could find some bridges," mourned 
Ruth. “They’d be easier to get over than this." 

“Well, come on, girls," cried Lucile with renewed 
energy, for nothing ever daunted her for long. “We’ll 
have to make the best of a bad bargain. Lie down, 
every one of you and do just as I do*." 

So down they went, obediently, and followed their 
leader as she wriggled through the network of vines 
and came up on the other side, flushed and breathless, 
but triumphant. 

“That was easy," she cried, as the last of them got 
to her feet. “After that we’ll have courage to meet 
any old thing that comes along. You did look so 
funny, too," she added, with a chuckle at the recollec- 
tion of red faces and flattened bodies with wildly kick- 
ing feet at the end. 

''You needn’t laugh," grumbled Jessie, “for you 
looked as funny from the back as any of us." 

“Don’t doubt it," came back, cheerfuly. “Come on 
and see if there are any more vines to crawl under." 

“Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty," Evelyn prophe- 
sied, gloomily. 


IVs Fairyland! 149 

‘‘Say, Lucy,’' Ruth exclaimed, '‘are you going to 
tell Miss Howland and the girls about this?” 

“Guess so, if nothing else happens. It’s the only 
thing that approaches interest, so far.” 

So, merrily, they followed their dauntless leader, 
and although Evelyn’s prediction was more than ful- 
filled, the girls pushed sturdily on, determined that 
they should have something to tell their guardian on 
their return. 

Their persistence was amply rewarded, for as they 
pushed aside a peculiarly stubborn bit of foliage, such 
a vision met their astonished eyes as caused them to 
stop with mouth and eyes wide open. 

“It’s fairyland!” Evelyn cried. “Oh, Lucy, this 
can’t be real.” 

“Yes it is,” Lucile assured her. “Only it’s the best 
thing we’ve seen yet. I guess we will have something 
to tell them now.” 

What they saw was this. Two rows of trees bent 
their intertwined branches to form the roof of a veri- 
table woodland bower, while from the boughs hung 
lacy garlands of clinging vine. The floor was car- 
peted with rich, velvety moss and even the great rocks 
were clothed in velvet, while from the crevices 


150 


Lucile 


peeped forth myriads of wild flowers, lending their 
vivid color to the beauty of the whole. At the end, 
adding the last perfect touch to the exquisite picture, 
dashed and flashed and sang in silvery lightness a 
miniature waterfall. Fed from a spring near by, it 
came rushing along, laughing at the stones that ob- 
structed its way and scattering its feathery spray 
upon the soft, velvet petals of the flowers. 

‘‘This surely is the best yet,’' cried Jessie, as they 
advanced farther into all this loveliness. 

“Yes, and to think we were the ones to discover 
it!” said Evelyn. 

Lucile stooped over to pluck one of the gorgeous 
blossoms from its sheltered nook beside a huge, pro- 
tecting stone, but as her fingers touched the soft, yield- 
ing stem, she straightened with a cry of, “Oh, girls, 
I can’t pick one of these beauties. Don’t let’s disturb 
them — we’ll leave them all just as they are.” 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Jessie agreed, close 
at her friend’s elbow. “It seems as if there are just 
enough, and if a flower were gone it would spoil the 
effect.” 

Evelyn had flung herself on a flat stone that formed 
a perfect seat. “Say, Lucile,” she cried, “this is 


It’s Fairyland! 151 

absolutely too good. I wonder what Miss Howland 
would — what’s that?” she interrupted herself, as a 
faint, far-away sound broke the stillness. 

‘‘It’s the whistle, girls,” cried Lucile. “It’s too bad 
to leave our fairy grotto before we’ve had time to ex- 
plore it but, ‘needs must’ ” here she stopped short 

and looked rather confused. 

“Lucy,” Evelyn reproved, in mock horror, “I’m 
surprised at such a quotation!” 

“I didn’t say anything,” defended Lucile, defiantly, 
while all the girls laughed at her confusion. 

“Never mind, Lucy,” said Jessie, with an aggravat- 
ingly soothing air, “I’ll stand by you, whatever hap- 
pens.” 

“Thanks,” said Lucile, laconically. 

The girls reluctantly followed as she led the way 
back, but turned for a last look at their discovery be- 
fore it was entirely hidden from view. Each in her 
heart vowed to return, and that very soon. 

They found the return journey much easier and 
they came upon Miss Howland so soon that 
she was surprised and asked them how far they had 
gone. 

“Oh, it wasn’t quite a quarter of a mile,” Lucile 


152 Lucile 

answered. “Something stopped us before we could 
cover the whole distance.” 

“Tell us about it,” they cried, but Miss Howland 
held up her hand. 

“Wait till the lunch is spread,” she admonished. 
“It’s getting late and I thought you girls were hun- 
gry,” she added, with a twinkle in her eye. 

“Hungry! well I guess we are,” cried Jessie, as the 
hamper was opened and disclosed the most tempting 
of provisions. 

When everything was in readiness. Miss Howland 
gathered the girls around a flat stone that served ad- 
mirably for a table. 

“Now let’s have your story, Lucy,” Miss Howland 
invited, and the girls leaned forward in eager expec- 
tancy. 

In a very few words Lucile told of their discovery 
and the girls almost forgot to eat in their interest. 

“Oh!” Marjorie exclaimed, as she finished, “that’s 
the most wonderful thing of all, Lucy. Why 
couldn’t wa have had the luck to find something like 
that.” 

“Did you know there was a place like that on the 
island. Miss Howland?” asked Lucile, suspiciously. 


It’s Fairyland! 153 

Miss Howland laughed. “Well, I had heard some- 
thing about it,” she admitted, “but I didn’t know ex- 
actly in what part of the island it was situated.” 

“But you had an idea,” guessed Marjorie, slyly. 
“And you sent Lucy in that direction. Now, to make 
it even, Miss Howland, you’ll have to take the rest of 
us to see the wonderful place.” 

“Well, perhaps we will,” Miss Howland half prom- 
ised, indulgently. 

The lunch was very quickly disposed of, and as soon 
as the last remnants were packed away, the merry 
company, led by their beloved guardian, set off in 
search of the reported wonderland. 

It must be admitted that some there were who felt 
a trifle skeptical as to the absolute verity of the tale 
and had a sort of Missourian feeling that “they must 
be shown.” Most of them took the recital in good 
faith, however, and pressed forward, heedless of 
scratches and turned ankles. 

It was not long before they came in sight of the 
wonder, and as they stood and gazed about them, even 
the most skeptical declared that Lucile had not been 
half prodigal enough in her praise. 

For a full hour they abandoned themselves to the 


154 


Lucile 


enjoyment of this beautiful sf)ot. At first they played 
games, hiding behind the trees and moss-covered 
rocks. It was too hot to keep this up long, and one 
after another they threw themselves upon the ground 
dabbling their hands in the clear stream and flipping 
handfuls of spray at one another. 

They could have gone on in this way indefinitely, 
taking no account of time, but Miss Howland was 
finally forced to warn them that the long afternoon 
was drawing to a close and that they must start at 
once. 

‘‘Oh, dear, why didn’t we bring our supper, too,” 
said Dorothy. “Then we wouldn’t have had to go 
back so soon.” 

“Humph, that’s a brilliant idea!” quoth Jessie. 
“Especially as you know we have to get back to camp 
before dark.” 

“Oh, and I’d almost forgotten we were going to 
have our council fire to-night,” said Dorothy. “Now 
we will have to hurry!” 

Miss Howland nodded approval. “I’m glad you 
realize that,” she said, simply. 

Although they were still sorry to leave their new 
discovery, the excitement of the approaching camp 


It’s Fairyland! 155 

council ran through their veins like fire, and made the 
parting easy. 

When at last they reached the canoes and set off 
for home, the sun was fast nearing the horizon. Now 
that they had left the island behind them, the realiza- 
tion struck them with overwhelming force that this 
was the nigKt on which the council fire was to be held 
and the long-coveted ranks were to be given. 

Almost simultaneously the girls quickened the 
stroke and fixed eager eyes on the opposite shore. 

“I had almost forgotten,’’ Jessie whispered to Lu- 
cile, as she drew along side. ‘‘To-night the ranks are 
to be given. Did you forget, Lucy?” 

“No, I didn’t forget,” Lucile answered in a tone that 
caused her friend to turn sharply. For Lucile’s lips 
were tightly compressed and in either cheek burned 
a crimson flush. Pier whole body was tense, and the 
short, hard strokes of her paddle sent the canoe for- 
ward so rapidly that Jessie had all she could do to 
keep up with her. 

“Um,” murmured Jessie, with an appreciative nod. 
“She’s beginning to realize now what a great thing 
is about to happen. I’d be excited, too, if I were in 
her place.” 


150 


Lucile 


And once again the tense, eager excitement that 
had been momentarily dispelled by the island atmos- 
phere of peace and quiet claimed the girls for 
its own. Many were the surreptitious glances in Lu- 
cile’s direction, and in their hearts the girls wondered 
what it must be like to be so near the greatest honor 
a camp-fire girl can win. Then and there each one 
promised herself that she would never cease trying 
until she was in the place Lucile occupied to-night. 
Although Marjorie and Evelyn were disappointed and 
chagrined at being out-raced to the goal, their failure 
now only made them more determined to win out in 
the future. 

“Is that shore coming nearer?’^ cried Dorothy to 
Evelyn, in desperation. “For the last five minutes it 
seems to have been getting farther away!” 

“Oh, it’s getting nearer I guess, although it does 
seem as if we’d taken twice as long already as we did 
to reach the island,” answered Evelyn, and then added, 
musingly, “I can imagine how Lucile feels now. I 
hope I’ll be there some day myself.” 

“Of course you will,” Marjorie assured her, loyally, 
and they paddled on in silence. 

At last the canoes were safely docked and the girls 


It’s Fairyland! 157 

set to work quickly to prepare dinner. They ate com- 
paratively little that evening, for the food seemed to 
choke them and they could think of nothing but the 
council fire. 

As soon as the meal was over Miss Howland dis- 
missed them and they ran hurriedly to their tents, 
to don the ceremonial dress. 

Then the moment came when, one by one, soft- 
footed and noiseless, they approached the yet un- 
lighted camp-fire, before which Miss Howland in her 
ceremonial dress was standing, a motionless, pictu- 
resque figure against the fast-darkening gray of the 
sky. 

As they filed past their guardian each girl made the 
hand sign of fire and then took her seat in the circle. 
When they were all seated Miss Howland obtained a 
spark by rubbing two pieces of flint together, thus 
igniting a torch. With the torch held high, she ad- 
vanced toward the wood and the girls held their 
breath as the dry timber began to catch and sent the 
sparks glancing here and there. Satisfied that the 
fire was making good headway. Miss Howland stepped 
back and took her seat. 

Then softly, solemnly, to the accompaniment of 


158 Lucile 

crackling wood and hissing flame, the maidens of the 
camp Aloea chanted their ode to Fire. 

Oh, Fire! 

Long years ago, when our fathers fought with great 
animals, you were their protection. 

From the cruel cold of winter you saved them. 

When they needed food you changed the flesh of beasts 
into savory meat for them. 

During all the ages your mysterious flame has been a 
symbol to them for Spirit. 

So (to-night) we light our fire in remembrance of the 
Great Spirit who gave you to us. 

As their voices died away the flames rose higher 
and higher until the water near the bank became all 
stained with red and fantastic shadows that leaped 
and danced among the trees. 

Then came their guardian’s voice, softly calling 
each girl’s musical Indian name and receiving in re- 
turn her whispered, “Kolah.” 

So the ceremony progressed until the three new 
girls had received their rings and Jessie rose to re- 
peat the fire-maker’s desire. And never was girl so 
proud and happy as Jessie when she held out her arm 
for the bracelet she had worked so hard to deserve. 

Then it was Lucile’s turn, and Miss Howland ad- 


It’s Fairyland! 159 

dressed the girls. ‘‘I need scarcely tell you how hard 
Nadia has striven to merit the honor which is hers 
to-night. Not only has she won all the required hon- 
ors, but she has proved herself a natural and enthusi- 
astic leader. The girls she has led have improved 
rapidly and I know we all feel that she is a fit candi- 
date for the highest honor it is possible for a camp- 
fire girl to receive.’' She turned to Lucile, who had 
risen from her place and now stood facing her guar- 
dian. 

The heart of every girl went out to her as she stood 
there, with the red glow of the fire playing over her 
face and the firelight agleam in her dark hair, mak- 
ing it shine like burnished copper. Her eyes were 
flashing with excitement and her figure was tense and 
motionless as she awaited Miss Howland’s next 
words. 

“Nadia,” began her guardian, “Nadia, is it your 
desire to become a torch-bearer of the Camp-Fire 
Aloea?” 

Nadia answered in the affirmative and then slowly 
repeated, 

“That light that has been given to me 
I desire to pass, undimmed, to others.” 


160 


Lucile 


It was over. Slowly the girls filed out florn the 
light of the fire into the lights and shadows beyond. 

As Lucile entered her tent two arms were thrown 
about her in a bear-like hug and a tender voice whis- 
pered in her ear, “Oh, Lucy, dear. I’m so glad/’ 

“And I’m so very, very glad for you, Jessie,” she 
whispered, returning the hug with interest. “I don’t 
think I could believe it even now, if I didn’t have this 
to prove it,” and she touched the pin on her dress. 

And then the tent flap was pushed aside and little 
Margaret Stillman, discarding her crutch, threw her- 
self on her knees beside Lucile and clasped two slen- 
der arms about her waist. 

“Oh, my dear, my dear,” she cried, half sobbing 
with joy. “I’ve wanted it so long and now that it’s 
come, I’m the happiest, the very happiest girl in the 
world.” 

“I’m not so sure of that,” murmured Lucile, gently, 
as she gazed out over Margaret’s bowed head toward 
the open where the last tiny flame of the council fire 
flickered for an instant and went out. 



“that light that has been given to me I DESIRE TO PASS 

UNUIMMED, TO OTHERS.” 





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CHAPTER XI 


ALMOST A TRAGEDY 

Early the next morning Lucile opened her eyes 
with the distinct impression that something unusual 
and rather nice had happened. 

Gradually, as she became more and more awake, 
this feeling deepened until she suddenly remembered 
the events of the previous evening. And with lazy, 
absolute contentment she gazed out upon the brilliant 
sunshine of another perfect day. Happily she re- 
viewed all the incidents of the day before, from the 
canoe trip to the island up to the council fire, and a 
tender smile crossed her face as she thought of Jessie 
and little Margaret Stillman. 

“How long it seems since yesterday morning,” she 
mused. “Then I was only a fire-maker and now I 
am a torch-bearer, second only to Miss Howland her- 
self. ril tell Jeddie” — and then she suddenly started, 
as it flashed through her mind that she had not seen 
the little dog since the morning before and that they 
had left him sick and forlorn. 

i6i 


162 


Lucile 


‘‘Oh/’ she cried at this point in her meditations, 
“how could I forget all about him so ? I wonder how 
— but Jim will be here this morning anyway, and then 
we can find out how he is.” 

Somewhat reassured by this reflection, she once 
more abandoned herself to pleasant recollections, and 
was smiling happily to herself when she was aroused 
by Jessie’s voice : 

“ ’Sleep, Lucy?” it inquired and then went on with- 
out waiting for an answer. “Say, how does it fed?” 

“I’m just beginning to find out,” Lucile answered. 
“How does it feel to you?” 

“Haven’t even had time to begin to find out,” said 
Jessie, stifling a yawn, “but I have a sort of an idea 
that it’s going to be great when I get used to it.” 

“I just thought of Jeddie a little while ago,” re- 
marked Lucile, “and I was wondering whether he 
was all right by this time.” 

“If he was with Jim all day yesterday he’ll be right 
as a trivet this morning. We’ll know all about him 
soon anyway,” said Jessie, hopefully. “To change the 
subject, Lucy, do you know whether there is anything 
special on hand for to-day?” 

“I’m not positive, but Miss Howland spoke about 


Almost a Tragedy 163 

visiting the other camp some day soon. I don’t know 
whether she’ll choose to-day or not.” 

“Oh, I hope she does !” exclaimed Jessie, impulsive- 
ly. “I’ve been so anxious ever since the day we met 
them at the post-office to see the girls again.” 

“So have I,” Lucile agreed, “but meanwhile it’s 
time to get up. Do you realize that this is your first 
day as a fire-maker? You can lie in bed if you want 
to, but I mean to make the most of this day. There, 
the girls are already turning out and we surely don’t 
want to be behind them.” 

So quickly they put on their suits and soon were 
part of the merry mob racing light-heartedly down to 
the water. 

A quarter of an hour later dripping wet, but with 
rosy faces and eyes that danced and sparkled with 
health, they drew themselves up on the bank. 

“Let’s have a race,” suggested Evelyn, struck by 
a happy thought. “We can all line up here at the 
water’s edge and race for the big tree this side of the 
mess tent.” 

“No sooner said than done, Evelyn,” cried Mar- 
jorie. “Come on, girls, get in line and I’ll beat you 
all/’ 


164 


Lucile 


‘Took who thinks she can run/' Lucile derided. 
“We'll just have to show her how mistaken she is/' 

“All right, come on and try," she challenged, mer- 
rily, and then in a military voice commanded: “On 
your mark — get set — go." 

And they were off like rabbits scuttling to the shel- 
ter of a burrow. 

With all the speed they could muster the girls raced 
along, leaping over the few roots and low stumps in 
the way and seeing only the tree near the mess tent. 
Lucile would have made the goal first had she not 
caught her foot in an almost invisible root and been 
thrown forward. With a great effort she recovered 
her balance, just in time to see Marjorie throw her- 
self against the tree with an exultant gasp. 

“I won," she cried. “You said I couldn't, Lucy, 
but — why, what's the matter?" she exclaimed, all so- 
licitude in a moment. “Did you hurt your foot ? Oh, 
I’m sorry I" 

“Nothing to speak of," replied Lucile. “I turned 
my ankle a trifle, that's all." 

“It was really your race then, Lucy," cried Mar- 
jorie, generously. “You were way in the lead till you 
got hurt." 


Almost a Tragedy 165 

“Yes, Lucile had it easily,’' Jessie commented. 

“It doesn’t make any difference,” Lucile disclaimed, 
stoutly; “Marjorie won and I didn’t. That’s all that 
counts. It’s awfully nice of you though, Margie,” she 
added. 

“Does it hurt very much, now?” asked Margaret, 
anxiously. 

“Not a bit. Nothing hurts to-day. Come on along, 
it’s almost time for breakfast,” and she led the way 
with a scarcely perceptible limp. 

They had hardly finished eating when a bark 
sounded from the woods, and they all tumbled out to 
meet the one missing member of the camp. 

There was a rush, and a flying black ball leaped into 
Lucile’ s outstretched arms and was held there, wrig- 
gling and twisting in a vain attempt to reach her face. 

“Oh, you darling, you darling,” she cried, hugging 
him tight. “You’re all right again, aren’t you, little 
doggie? Oh, I’m so glad to get you back.” 

“But where is Jim?” Miss Howland inquired as she 
stroked the shiny black head. 

“There he is!” exclaimed Evelyn as Jim, red of 
face and breathing hard, ran out from the shadow of 
the trees. 


166 


Lucile 


‘'Oh, you’ve got him,” he cried with a re- 
lieved gasp. “A nice chase ye’ve led me, ye little 
rascal,” apostrophizing Jed, who wriggled himself 
free from Lucile’s grasp and capered wildly about 
him. 

“You see,” Jim continued, “the minute we headed 
this way Jed broke loose and I’ve been chasin’ him 
ever since. Oh, I ought to chop your head off with 
the axe they keep down the cellar,” he said with a 
ferocity that was belied by the gentle way he pulled 
the culprit’s silky ears. 

“Huh, I don’t believe you’d hurt a fly,” Evelyn 
scoffed. 

“Maybe not, miss,” Jim agreed, with a grin. 

“You surely did fix up the dog in fine shape,” Miss 
Howland complimented, with a smile. “Yesterday he 
seemed pretty sick, but to-day he’s as fit as a fiddle. 
You must be a magician.” 

“Not quite that, miss,” disclaimed Jim, modestly. 
“It was just the heat, and he’s not used to it. I kept 
him in a cool spot all day yesterday, and this morning 
he was as well as ever. I’ve got to go now, miss,” 
he added, fingering his old hat nervously. “They’ll 
be wanting me soon.” 


Almost a Tragedy 167 

“All right, we won’t keep you, Jim. Oh, thank 
you for the dog,” she called out after him as he disap- 
peared. 

“Don’t mention it,” came back through the trees, 
and then the girls all fell on Jed and carted him down 
to the river. 

As soon as they let him go he dashed into the water 
and was back again, shaking himself and looking ex- 
pectantly from one to the other. 

“Oh, he wants us to throw him a stick,” cried Lu- 
cile, as she picked up a twig. “Here goes, Jed,” and 
she threw it far out from the shore. 

The dog was after it like a streak and plowing 
steadily along grasped it between his jaws and was 
back in a flash to the shore, where he laid the trophy 
at Lucile’s feet. He shook the water from his coat 
and ran excitedly back and forth, begging for other 
worlds to conquer. 

Time and time again the girls sent him in, until at 
last Lucile declared that they ought to stop. 

“See, he’s panting now,” she said, “and we don’t 
want to tire him too much.” 

“I’ll just send this one more,” and before they could 
stop her^ Jessie had hurled a stick far out on the sur- 


168 Lucile 

face, and Jed, not to be daunted, started out to bring 
it back. 

*‘Oh, Jessie, you shouldn’t have done that!” Lucile 
exclaimed. ‘'Couldn’t you see how tired he was?” 

“I guess he’s good for one more,” Jessie answered, 
carelessly, to cover her real concern. “He wouldn’t 
have chased it if he’d been so tired as you seem to 
think.” 

But Jed’s stout little heart was stronger than his 
body. As he struggled along he seemed scarcely able 
to breast the tide, and to the anxious girls it looked as 
though he were sinking. 

“Oh, we’ve got to help him,” cried Margaret. 
“Look, look, his nose went under then,” and before 
any one realized what she had in mind, or could stop 
her, she had flung her crutch into her canoe and 
scrambled in herself. Seizing the paddle, she pushed 
off from shore. 

Quick as a flash Lucile acted. With desperate 
energy she tugged at the knotted line that held her 
canoe, and when it was at last freed she fell into it 
and was off, the short sharp strokes making the frail 
craft fairly fly. Breathlessly the girls watched. 

Jed was in dire need of help, for only by the exer- 


Almost a Tragedy 169 

cise of all his waning strength could he keep his nose 
above water. But still his staunch little soul revolted 
at returning without the stick. They, his friends, had 
meant for him to bring it back, or they would not have 
thrown it. He must carry out his orders, and so, 
struggling, panting, he pushed on gallantly. Only a 
little way farther and he would reach it. Only a little 
way, but how interminable it seemed! On the little 
dog went, with aching muscles and his breath coming 
in short gasps, sometimes with his nose entirely under 
water, but always getting a little nearer to that bob- 
bing stick of wood. 

At last he had it clutched firmly between his teeth 
and started to go back. At the same instant Margaret 
gave her canoe a final push that brought her within 
reach of the foundering dog. 

^^Oh, you poor little thing!” she cried, as she saw 
his condition. “Just a second and Til have you in.” 

“Margaret, don’t do that!” Lucile almost screamed 
as she came within a yard of the other canoe. “Sit still 
and I’ll get him.” 

But the warning came too late. In her eagerness 
to rescue, Margaret had leaned too far over the side, 
and the unstable craft suddenly tipped. Desperately, 


170 


Lucile 


she flung herself toward the other side, but the water 
was already flooding it, and with a cry of terror she 
went down, the waters closing over her. 

Suffocating, choking, blinded, she came to the sur- 
face and thrashed about wildly. For a second or two 
she kept herself afloat, but her crippled state was too 
great a handicap. Sobbing, wrestling, fighting like a 
wild thing, she once more went down in the swirling, 
pitiless waters. There was a pounding in her ears like 
the roar of a thousand cannon, and then unconscious- 
ness claimed her. 

Frantic with terror, Lucile drove her canoe over 
the spot where Margaret had disappeared. With the 
speed of light, she was over the side, her body cleaving 
the green depths like an arrow. But she caught no 
glimpse of the form she sought and a terrible fear 
tugged at her heart as she rose to the surface. 

‘‘Oh Margaret, Margaret!” she cried, wildly, 
“where are you, dear? Oh, what shall I do, what can 
I do?” 

Once more she dived, and this time she caught sight 
of a white face only a few feet away. Another instant 
and she had clutched the figure desperately and rose 
with her unconscious burden to the surface. 


Almost a Tragedy 171 

Holding Margaret’s head above the water she 
swam to the canoe floating idly five yards away. 

“Thank God, oh, thank God,” she murmured, as 
she grasped the stern of the little craft with one hand, 
while with the other arm she held Margaret close to 
her side. 

It was utterly impossible for her to lift the uncon- 
scious girl into the boat, or to get in herself without 
relinquishing her burden. But others were working 
now with the energy of desperation. 

“Hold on tight, Lucile,” called a voice that she 
recognized, and the next moment a canoe containing 
Miss Howland and Evelyn shot alongside. 

It was the work only of a moment to lift Margaret 
into the canoe, and they were about to do the same for 
Lucile, when she intervened. 

“Don’t wait for me,” she begged. “I’m perfectly 
safe and I’ll swim in all right. Every minute’s pre- 
cious now for Margaret.” 

Miss Howland hesitated for an instant, but as she 
caught sight of Jessie pulling toward them, yielded to 
the greater need and paddled swiftly to the shore. 

Events had passed so swiftly and Lucile’s thoughts 
had been absorbed in her companion's danger, 


172 Lucile 

that, although she had been dimly conscious of an 
object pressing against her shoulder, she had not 
realized what it was. Now as she turned she heard 
a little whimpering and saw the ends of two black 
paws that were holding to the upper part of her 
arm. 

‘^Jed!” she exclaimed, “you little darling.’’ And 
she shifted the little wet ball to a more secure position 
on her shoulder. 

“Yes, it’s Jed, all right,” said Jessie, as she shipped 
her paddle and drew her canoe up close to Lucile’s. 
“I saw him grab you as you swam past and hold on 
for dear life. Hand him over to me. And as for you, 
you blessed thing, just hold on to the stern with one 
hand and your canoe with the other, and I’ll paddle 
you in before you know it.” 

A few minutes brought them to the shore, where 
they joined their companions, who were working fe- 
verishly over the unconscious form of Margaret. 

For more than half an hour they labored with fran- 
tic energy to bring forth some sign of life. Now and 
again one of the girls would whisper to another, her 
voice husky with the fear it expressed, “Do you think 
she can be dead?” — the last word scarcely audible — ^ 


Almost a Tragedy 173 

and the other would answer dully, “Oh, it can’t be, it 
can’t be!” 

Then suddenly Marjorie spoke in a tone that sent 
a warm rush of hope to their hearts : 

“Look, look, her eyelids are fluttering. Girls, she’s 
coming back, she’s coming back.” 

With redoubled energy the girls worked now, fos- 
tering that tiny spark of life until it should burst into 
flame. Gradually, the warmth came back into her cold 
limbs, the color tinged the pallor of her face. Then 
her eyes slowly opened, and the girls watched their 
expression change from vague wonder to intelligence. 

“Is — ^Jed — all — right?” she asked, as though doubt- 
ing her ability to speak. 

Miss Howland stepped forward and took the girl’s 
hand gently in her own. 

“Yes, he’s all right. You mustn’t talk very much, 
Margaret dear. You know you’re not very strong 
yet.” 

“But I don’t remember what happened,” she said, 
with a puzzled frown. And then she cdntinued, 
slowly, as though searching in her memory for facts : 
“I leaned over to get Jeddie, and — oh, yes, I remem- 
ber — somebody called to me — it sounded like Lucile’s 


174 Lucile 

voice — but it was too late — the canoe tipped and the 
water — oh, that awful water,’' and she put her hand 
before her face in a violent shudder. 

“Don’t think about it Margaret,” interposed Evelyn, 
hastily, “it’s all over now and you’re safe and sound,” 
and she turned away to hide tears of thankfulness. 

There was a tremulous silence for a while, as no 
one trusted herself to speak and then Margaret looked 
up from her cot timidly and asked : 

“Do you suppose — could I see Lucile?” 

In a minute Lucile was down on her knees beside 
the cot, with her arms around the little figure. 

“Lucile — I want to make a confession,” Margaret 
began, hesitatingly. “I did hear you tell me to keep 
still, but I was proud, and I wanted to save Jeddie all 
by myself, and so and so — I almost made you lose your 
life to save mine. I can’t forgive myself,” she wailed, 
piteously. 

But Lucile only tightened her clasp, while Miss 
Howland and the girls looked on dewy-eyed and oh, 
so very thankful! 


CHAPTER XII 


THE FURY OF THE STORM 

If Lucile had been their heroine before, she was a 
hundred times more so after this adventure that had 
nearly proved disastrous. 

Margaret had almost entirely recovered, and fol- 
lowed Lucile with her eyes when she was in sight, and 
was restless and discontented when she was away. 
Although Margaret had really been the cause of the 
accident, and merited a severe reprimand. Miss How- 
land wisely decided that she had been punished 
enough. 

Just a few days before the girls had had a great 
surprise. Jessie had called to Margaret to bring her 
something, and Margaret, dropping her crutch, had 
run to her almost naturally. 

‘"Margaret,” Lucile had cried, amazed and de- 
lighted, ‘T didn’t think you could walk without your 
crutch.” 

Margaret flushed painfully, and leaned against the 


175 


176 Lucile 

tree for support, while the girls came running up, 
eager to know what had happened. 

‘‘She can walk without her crutch,” cried Jessie. 

Then the questions had come in a flood. 

“Why didn’t you tell us about it, Margaret?” 
“How long have you been able to do it?” and count- 
less others until the questioners had finally stopped to 
take breath. 

“I didn’t mean you to know right away,” Margaret 
had answered. “I was practicing all by myself when 
no one was around, but to-day I forgot ” 

“Oh, Margaret darling, that’s the best of all,” Lu- 
cile had cried, nearly lifting small Margaret off her 
feet in her ecstasy of joy, “and won’t Judge Stillman 
be happy when he hears of it.” 

“Oh, but he mustn’t know,” broke in Margaret, 
quickly; “promise me you won’t tell him. I want so 
much to surprise him when I can really run about like 
other girls.” 

Always that cry “like other girls,” that never failed 
to go straight to the girls’ hearts, and made them anx- 
ious to help their little friend with her heavy burden. 

Now, when it was so suddenly made clear to them 
that through exercise, fresh air, and wholesome com- 


The Fury of the Storm 177 

panionship with girls of her own age there was a pos- 
sibility of little Margaret regaining her health and the 
use of her poor wasted limb, they were even more 
ready to help than before, and showered her with lit- 
tle attentions that warmed her heart and helped her 
more than whole summers full of exercise could have 
done. 

The “hold on to health’’ law had not been without 
its influence either, for Margaret was a staunch camp- 
fire girl, and had striven unceasingly to obey the one 
law that up to this time had seemed beyond her reach. 

To-day had been decided upon for the visit to the 
other camp, and both girls were looking forward ea- 
gerly to the meeting. 

It was on one occasion when Lucile was hurrying 
along with Jed close at her heels that Evelyn cried, 
“Look at Jed ! He’s been following you up like your 
shadow all morning, Lucy. You couldn’t get rid of 
him if you tried.” 

“Well, I shan’t try. He’s a mighty good guardian, 
aren’t you, Jed? Come on. I’ll give you a race to the 
tent,” and off they went together, Jed barking furi- 
ously and bumping into trees when he looked over his 
shoulder at Lucile, who came panting up behind him. 


178 


Lucile 


Dovv^n they went t o the river bank, where Miss 
Howland was standing gazing out over the water as 
though in deep thought. 

‘‘We won’t be able to use the canoes to-day, will 
we. Miss Howland?” Lucile asked, wistfully, for the 
adventure to her lost half of its charm if they had 
to go by land. 

Reluctantly Miss Howland drew her eyes from the 
horizon and looked at Lucile as though she only partly 
understood. 

“Canoes?” she repeated. “Oh, no, Fm afraid we 
can’t use them to-day. There’s a tremendous storm 
coming up, and I wouldn’t take the chance of being 
caught in it.” 

“But we won’t have to stay home,” Lucile cried, a 
cloud of disappointment crossing her face. “Don’t you 
suppose we could get there before it breaks,^ if we 
hurry? Is it very far?” 

“Oh, surely, we can walk it,” Miss Howland reas- 
sured her, shaking off her mood of abstraction and 
smiling her own bright cheery smile that brought light 
and warmth to all who came within its radiance, 
“only we’ll have to hurry pretty fast. Let’s see if we 
can’t be off within the next five minutes.” 


179 


The Fury of the Storm 

It was ten minutes before everything was in 
readiness, but at the end of that time they swung off 
down the road with never a care to detract from 
their pleasure, and their hearts attuned to the song 
of the birds. 

Margaret, between Lucile and Jessie, made her way 
bravely with the rest, and only occasionally, when she 
became too tired to walk, would she accept help from 
her friends. Miss Howland was very careful of her, 
fearing that the terrible experience of the other day 
had put her back on the road to recovery more than 
she had gained. More than once, seeing the tired look 
in Margaret’s eyes. Miss Howland would insist on 
their forming a seat with their hands and carrying 
her until she clamored to be set down again. 

They were only a few yards from the opposite 
camp when the storm, so long threatening, burst upon 
them with unbelievable fury. 

“Oh, it’s come, it’s come!” Evelyn shrieked, her 
voice shrill above the rising wind. 

“Run,” Miss Howland commanded sharply. “Here, 
Lucile, help me with Margaret. You run along, Jes- 
sie,” and, hair tossed wildly about by the wind, and 
nearly blinded by the dashing rain, they caught her 


180 Lucile 

up between them and followed the fast disappearing 
girls. 

A second later a dozen dripping camp-fire girls with 
the little black dog at their heels burst into the mess 
tent upon an astonished group just then engaged in 
the delightful occupation of eating lunch. Quickly 
they jumped from their seats and in open-mouthed 
amazement gazed at the newcomers. Miss Howland 
placed Margaret on her feet and stepped forward. 

The leader of the other camp, recovering from her 
astonishment, advanced to meet her. 

“Fm sorry we had to make our entrance in so 
abrupt and informal a manner,^^ Miss Howland began 
apologetically. “These are the girls of the camp-fire 
Aloea and I am their guardian. The storm overtook 
us just on the outskirts of your camp, and we had to 
run for shelter.'^ 

Then pandemonium broke loose. Miss Howland 
and Miss Stevens introduced their girls, and they in- 
stantly formed what their leaders laughingly called a 
“mutual admiration society.” Questions were asked 
and answered in such droll ways that the tent rang 
with merry laughter, and there was almost as much 
noise inside as out. 


The Fury of the Storm 181 

After a whispered consultation with Miss Howland, 
Miss Stevens raised her hand for silence. 

“Since we were just having lunch when our guests 
arrived,’’ she began, “and since Miss Howland has 
informed me that our friends of the camp-fire Aloea 
have not as yet had theirs, it seems to me that it would 
be a very good plan to invite our guests to join us. 
Do we all agree?” 

There was a clamorous assent, and even Jed gave 
an excited bark. 

“Isn’t this a lark?” whispered Jessie, joyfully, to 
Lucile, as they crowded around the mess table. “O-a-o, 
but I’m hungry.” 

“So am I, rather,” answered Lucile, as she bit into 
a deliciously crisp buttered biscuit, “but I tell you we 
got in just in the nick of time,” she added. 

“I guess you did,” said Alice Hague, one of the 
girls whom Lucile had met at the post-office; “just 
listen to it rain. I’d rather be in here snug and dry 
than crouching under some tree just at present.” 

“Yes, and it’s a little safer, too,” spoke up another 
girl. “Oh — h!” she exclaimed, and clapped her hands 
over her ears as a tremendous crash of thunder pealed 
out directly over their heads. 


182 


Lucile 


‘‘I — I am glad Fm not afraid of thunder and light- 
ning/' Jessie cried, rather shakily, as she gripped Lu- 
cile's arm. ‘^ust listen to it. Oh, Lucy, do you sup- 
pose we could be struck?” 

*^Of course not, you little goose,” Lucile answered, 
in a voice not quite as reassuring as she intended it to 

be; '‘not with all these trees. It would strike 

oh!” as another tremendous crash shook the earth. 

The girls looked from one to another, white-faced 
and questioning. Jed, at Lucile’s feet, whined and 
shivered and crept closer to her. 

“Look how dark it’s getting,” some one whispered, 
and the girls suddenly realized that darkness had 
fallen almost while she spoke. 

The rain fell in torrents, driven by the furious 
wind that howled and moaned and whistled shrilly 
through the trees, tearing at the tent with eager fin- 
gers, and dying away into the distance only to rise 
again with redoubled fury. One tremendous clap of 
thunder followed another with relentless persistency, 
and the ground trembled and shook with the impact. 

Never before could the girls remember anything like 
this. Their splendid bravery was giving way, and 
something very like panic ran from one to another. 


The Fury of the Storm 183 

Then they heard Miss Howland’s voice, calm and 
quiet in the fast growing darkness. 

“Why, girls, there is nothing to be alarmed about,” 
she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, that brought them 
all to their senses and made them ashamed of their 
fears. 

“It’s only one of those sudden storms that pass as 
quickly as they come up,” said Miss Stevens; “why, 
it will be over and the sun shining before we know 
it,” she added, cheerily. 

But just then, as if to belie her words, a vivid flash 
of lightning rent the darkness, and the girls instinc- 
tively put their hands to their ears to shut out the crash 
that was sure to follow. Then came something they 
never forgot. They lived it over in their dreams long 
after, and were glad to awake and find the stars shin- 
ing overhead. 

It came like fifty cannon bursting in their very ears 
— a shock that seemed to shake the earth to its very 
center, followed by a rending, tearing noise, and the 
sound of a great body falling to the earth. 

The girls cried out and clutched each other fran- 
tically in their terror. They dared not stir, but sat 
motionless, half dazed, awaiting they knew not what. 


184 


Lucile 


For a long moment it seemed to them that the end 
of the world had surely come, and they were only 
waiting for annihilation. Then Miss Howland spoke, 
and they realized that the earth was still whole, and 
that as yet they were still alive. 

fancy that lightning must have struck a tree near 
by,” their guardian was saying in a matter-of-fact 
tone; ‘‘we will have to go out and find it after the 
storm is over.” 

“Oh, but that was awful,” Margery cried. “I surely 
thought my end had come. Do you suppose we’ll have 
any more like that ?” 

“Probably not,” Miss Stevens answered soothingly; 
“we’ll hope not, anyway.” 

So, gradually, under the stimulating words of their 
leaders, courage returned to the girls, and they began 
to feel ashamed of their fright. Although the light- 
ning was still frequent and the thunder heavy, it was 
nothing compared with the former terrific bolt, and 
they soon found themselves chatting almost as merrily 
as ever. 

“I suppose you do a good deal of canoeing over this 
side of the river?” Lucile was saying to one of the 
girls. 


The Fury of the Storm 185 

“Oh, yes,” was the answer, “in fact, we’re hardly 
ever out of them except when we go on our scouting 
expeditions or take a trip to the village. We’re be- 
ginning to be quite expert, and Miss Stevens has prom- 
ised us a canoe trip to one of the islands.” 

“You will have great fun,” prophesied Jessie, who 
had overheard the last sentence. “We went over just 
a little while ago and had such a good time we didn’t 
want to go home.” 

“Yes, especially when we had to fish girls out of 

o 

the water,” said Lucile, with a significant glance in 
Evelyn’s direction. 

“What’s that?” inquired that personage, rather 
sharply, “what did you say, Lucy?” 

“She said they fished girls out of the water,” one 
of the girls volunteered, with a mystified expres- 
sion. 

“What did you mean. Miss Payton?” cried the 
other girls, and crowded around, sensing a joke. 

“If you tell the girls about that, Lucile Payton, I’ll 
never forgive you,” Evelyn threatened, at the same 
time sending Lucile an imploring glance. 

“Why not?” asked Lucile, her eyes dancing with 
mischief ; “it might have happened to any of us, you 


186 


Lucile 


know, Evelyn, and we might as well give our neigh- 
bors a little innocent amusement/’ 

“Oh, well, go ahead,” Evelyn grumbled, “there’s no 
stopping you when you get started until you’ve had 
your say out.” 

“Go ahead, Lucy,” urged the girls, and so she 
launched into the tale with good will, and before she 
had finished the girls were holding their sides, and 
even Evelyn allowed herself a sheepish grin. 

“It’s all very well,” she said, “for you girls to laugh, 
but I can tell you when I fell off the rock I was pretty 
well scared. You never can tell where you’re going 
to end up when you get started that way.” 

“Well, you knew we were there to rescue you, any- 
way,” said Margery. 

“Oh, yes, that was a great comfort,” said Evelyn, 
in a tone that caused Jessie to remark, “Do I mistake, 
or does that simple sentence contain a fund of sarcasm 
with which to crush us ?” 

“There is no mistake, I fear,” Lucile continued, 
with a mournful shake of the head ; “evidently she has 
no gratitude for us who so valiantly rescued her from 
a watery grave.” 

The girls laughed, and Evelyn retorted, “I fear I 


The Fury of the Storm 187 

haven’t, for the watery grave was only about two feet 
deep. A canoe would have grounded there almost.” 

“Speaking of canoes,” broke in Alice Hague, “I 
was thinking just the other day what great fun it 
would be if we could get up some sort of a canoe 
race.” 

“Canoe race !” Jessie echoed, staring. 

“Sounds good to me,” said Lucile with emphasis, 
leaning forward excitedly; “you mean, have a real 
canoe race between the two camps?” 

“Uh-huh,” Alice assented. 

“A race ! A race !” the girls all cried together, and 
then and there began a contest as to who could speak 
the fastest and loudest. 

“Let’s ask Miss Howland and Miss Stevens,” Lu- 
cile suggested, when she could make her voice heard 
above the din. 

The two guardians were busily engaged in compar- 
ing notes, and the girls hesitated, torn between the 
desire to have the matter finished at once, and a nat- 
ural reluctance to interrupt. 

However, Miss Stevens sensed that there was some- 
thing more than usual afoot, and drew Miss How- 
land’s attention to the fact. 


188 


Lucile 


‘They’re dying to put some sort of question to us,” 
she whispered; “let’s see what it is. Then, aloud, 
“Come along, girls. What’s the matter now ?” 

And so they proposed for consideration to their 
guardian and leader the all-important subject of a 
canoe race at the end of the season. 

“We’ve had a great deal of practice in the war 
canoe,” Lucile finished, pleadingly, “and I’m sure we 
could manage it all right.” 

Certainly the sporting blood of their leaders was 
aroused, and they almost consented to the proposal. 
Still, caution refused to be altogether ignored, and 
they decided to talk it over and give a definite answer 
later. 

“They’ll let us, all right,” Margery announced, con- 
fidently, when the two leaders were again occupied in 
discussing matters of great import. 

“I knew by the look in Miss Howland’s eye that she 
couldn’t resist,” said Ruth. 

“I hope you’re right,” said Evelyn, who persisted 
in looking on the gloomy side of everything since the 
girls, as she expressed it, had infamously held her up 
to ridicule and scorn. “They’ll probably think it’s 
too dangerous, and taboo the whole thing.” 

“Perhaps,” said one of the girls, cheerfully, and 


189 


The Fury of the Storm 

added, philosophically, ‘^even if we can't have the race, 
we won’t be any worse off than we were before.” 

“Small comfort that is,” Jessie sniffed. 

“Well, I know what is a comfort, anyway,” cried 
one of the girls as she pulled aside the tent flap and let 
in a flood of sunshine. “The storm’s all over, and we 
never knew it.” 

“Oh, isn’t it pretty,” they all cried as they crowded 
to the opening. 

The sun was dazzling in its brilliancy, and the rain- 
drops clinging to the leaves and flowers sent back 
little answering shafts of light. The whole woods 
seemed somehow changed and more beautiful. The 
birds sang their songs of homage to the sun, their 
music mingling with the cool drip of the raindrops. 

There was only one discordant note in the whole 
beautiful picture, and the girls cried out in dismay 
when they saw it. 

Not far from the clearing, indeed, not more than 
a hundred yards from the mess tent, had stood an 
enormous tree — the girls had proudly named it “Mon- 
arch” for its size and bulk. It was there the lightning 
had struck in that awful black moment, and now the 
giant lay upon the ground uprooted bodily, and sur- 
rounded by twigs and whole branches that had been 


190 


Lucile 


torn from neighboring trees in its descent, prostrate, 
shorn of all its glory, notwithstanding its gigantic 
strength, so pitifully inadequate against the giant 
forces of nature. 

‘‘Oh, our poor old monarch,’^ Alice cried in real 
grief. “Miss Stevens, come and see the poor old tree. 
It must have been struck that time.’' 

They all made their way to the fallen monarch and 
the girls marveled at its unusual length. 

“It looks ever so much shorter than it did stand- 
ing,” cried one of the girls, “but it’s a monster, just 
the same.” 

“It’s no wonder we were almost scared to death,” 
said Evelyn. “I would have felt very sorry for any 
one who happened to be standing in its way when it 
fell.” 

“And well you might be,” remarked Miss Howland, 
gravely, then added, “It’s just about time for us to be 
getting back. We have had such a very enjoyable visit 
here,” she smiled, winningly, “that we haven’t noticed 
how very fast the time was flying.” 

“But wasn’t there one thing we wanted to speak to 
the girls about before you went?” Miss Stevens in- 
quired with an innocent air, as if the affair were of 


The Fury of the Storm 191 

such small importance that it had almost escaped her 
memory. 

"‘It almost seems to me there was,’^ Miss Howland 
answered. “Oh, yes, it was something about a canoe 
race.'' 

All this time the girls had been waiting expectantly, 
knowing what was coming, and now they pressed for- 
ward with an eager “Yes?" 

“Well," said Miss Howland, with exasperating de- 
liberation, “Miss Stevens and I have considered the 

matter from all sides, and we have decided that " 

again she paused, watching the young faces before her 
delightedly, and passing a droll look in Miss Stevens' 
direction, who for her part was enjoying the little 
comedy immensely. But this was more than human 
nature could stand, and the girls openly revolted. 

“What ?" they cried, impatiently, and Evelyn added, 
“Please go on, we can't wait." 

“Well," Miss Howland finished, “we have decided 
that a canoe race wouldn't be altogether out of the 
question." 

“Hurrah !" they cried, wildly, and then such a shout 
broke the quiet as set the birds to singing in opposi- 
tion, and drove Jed mad with excitement. 


CHAPTER XIII 


TOO CURIOUS 

Race, race, race! Nothing else had been heard 
from morning till night in the camp-fire group since 
the two leaders had given their consent. Never were 
they completely happy until they had fulfilled all 
minor duties and had pushed the great war canoe from 
the bank and were oflf for practice. And practise they 
did, with such ardor that at the end of a week every 
one of the camp-fire girls was confident that the other 
girls stood no chance at all of winning. Needless to 
say that their opponents had a similar conviction, all 
of which boded well for the success of the race. 

Lucile had met Alice on one of her scouting expe- 
ditions, and in their conversation Alice spoke of the 
island and their intended visit. Upon Lucile describ- 
ing her adventures and the discovery of the “fairy 
grotto,” Alice proposed that she with some other girls 
and Lucile with her squad journey over there together 
some time toward the end of the week. Lucile had 


192 


Too Curious 193 

agreed enthusiastically, provided, of course, that their 
guardian approved. 

In their talk together Alice had learned much about 
the camp-fire girls and warmed up cordially to the 
idea. 

“Oh, I wish we could form a camp-fire,” she had 
cried. “I’m sure Miss Stevens would act as guardian, 
and we’d have ever so much more fun than we do 
now.” 

“Well, there’s nothing to stop you,” said Lucile. 
“I tell you I never thought there could be so much 
fun, even in the every-day things like cooking and 
mending and taking care of gardens, until I became a 
camp-fire girl.” 

“And you will show me your count, didn’t you call 
it, and your honor beads and all the rest, if I come 
over soon?” she begged, as she turned to go. 

“I’d love to,” Lucile had answered, emphatically. 

So on the day agreed upon Lucile arose early with 
a light heart to find the world bathed in sunshine, giv- 
ing promise of a perfect day. 

“I’m so glad we’re going, Lucy,” Jessie whispered 
to her friend. “I’ve been wishing for ever so long that 
we might see the island again. It looks as if we were 


194 Lucile 

going to have a good day for it,” eyeing the horizon 
speculatively. 

“Surely we are,” said Lucile, cheerfully. “There 
isn’t a single cloud in the sky.” 

Half an hour later they started, while the girls who 
were not included in the expedition looked after them 
enviously. However, Miss Howland had promised 
another trip in the near future, and with this promise 
they must needs be content. 

Lucile led her small fleet to a spot half way between 
the camps that had been agreed upon as their rendez- 
vous. Although early themselves, they found the 
others there before them and impatiently awaiting 
their arrival. “Hello,” cried Alice as they came in 
sight. “We thought you had changed your minds 
and weren’t coming after all. What made you so 
late?” 

“We’re not late,” Lucile denied, indignantly. “We’re 
a little ahead of time and you’re way early.” 

“Why, we can’t be,” said Anne, incredulously. 

Anne was a very important member of the other 
camp and much given to correcting those with whom 
she was associated. Be it said to her credit, however, 
that she had conscientiously tried to rid herself of the 


Too Curious 195 

habit of late, but, in spite of her earnest efforts, the 
improvement up to this time had not been noticeable. 
She had dark brown eyes and golden hair, and 
an expression that would have softened a heart of 
stone. So far from ^resenting her criticism, which 
at times and from a different person would have 
been distinctly irritating, the girls had learned to take 
it all in good part. They even helped her by saying 
nothing until such time as her heart reproached her 
and she would come to the girls and say with a 
little apologetic smile : ‘T’m sorry I spoke that 
way. You probably were right after all.’’ Such 
was the girl who had treated Lucile’s statement so 
cavalierly. 

Lucile flushed, and it required all her self-control 
to keep her from saying something she surely would 
have regretted later. 

‘Tt’s very likely our clocks don’t agree,” said 
Evelyn, seeking to pour oil on the troubled waters. 

“Anyway, it’s a good deal better to be too early than 
too late,” said Lucile, merrily, as she brought her 
canoe up beside Alice. “It will give us all the more 
time to spend on the island. What do you say if we 
start now?” 


196 


Lucile 


“Surely/’ said Alice. “There’s nothing to keep us 
and I can’t wait to get there. Are you all ready, 
girls ?” 

There was a general “Aye, aye, captain,” and they 
started off two and two, Lucile and Alice leading, 
while the others kept close in their wake. 

“This air makes you feel as if you could move 
mountains,” Lucile confided to Alice. “I hope we 
have a day like this for our race.” 

“Oh, so do I. What will we do if it rains ?” and her 
voice was tragic with the possibility. “What v/ould 
we do?” she asked again. 

“Doubtless we’d put it off till some other day when 
it didn’t rain,” Jessie suggested drily. “It seems to 
me that is the only solution.” 

“That’s all very well if the rain only lasts a day,” 
retorted Lucile, quickly, “but suppose it lasts three or 
four days? We’ve set the day so near the end of va- 
cation that we should either have to give it up alto- 
gether or race in the rain.” 

“Away with such dismal thoughts,” cried Anne, 
blithely. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. 
Don’t let’s worry till the time comes.” 

“Very good advice, Anne,” quoth Alice, wisely. 


Too Curious 197 

'‘but a little worry is good for everybody once in a 
while/’ 

“All right, ril let the rest of you do the worrying 
for me then,” said Jessie, airily. “I haven’t the time.” 

“I remember a time when you let everybody else 
do everything for you, Jessie,” put in Evelyn, slyly. 
“That was quite a long time ago, though, before you 
became a camp-fire girl.” 

“That’s not fair, raking up one’s awful past,” 
laughed Lucile. “I don’t think Jessie’s touched a 
candy for the last three months.” 

“Four months,” Jessie corrected. “If you rake up 
any more of my past history, Evelyn, I’m likely to 
give you a ducking when we get over to the island.” 

“Come on and try,” she challenged. “I’m just as 
strong as you are.” 

“You’ll have a chance to prove which is the stronger 
very soon,” said Lucile. “It hasn’t taken us any time 
at all to get there.” 

“It surely hasn’t,” agreed Alice. “Where do we 
land, Lucile?” 

“Skirt the shore to the right for a little way, and 
you’ll come to an inlet. That’s where we landed be- 
fore. There it is now.” 


198 


Lucile 


‘^Isn’t this great?'' the girls cried, and Jessie ex- 
claimed, joyfully, ^‘It's just made for a canoe land- 
ing!" 

Then there was a great scurrying and scramb- 
ling, until, one by one, they had landed and drawn 
up the canoes. So still was the water and so 
great their hurry that they did not give as much 
time and care to this important matter as they usu- 
ally did. 

‘‘Now we're all ready," said Alice, drawing a long 
breath, as the last girl joined the little group. “Lead 
and we follow to fairyland." 

“Oh, that's far too easy," said Lucile. “We're go- 
ing to take you to the place where we ate our lunch 
the other day, and then you can separate as we did, 
and see who will find fairyland first and she laughed 
mischievously as she saw the look of surprise on their 
faces. 

“Oh, that's mean," said Anne. “You didn't say 
you were going to make us hunt for it." 

“It's only fair," Lucile defended. 

“Sure it is," admitted Alice. “We can't expect to 
have all the fun and none of the work. Come on, 
girls, it will give us a good appetite." 


Too Curious 


199 


^^And hunting it will be as jolly a lark as finding 
it/’ another chimed in merrily, and soon they were 
all of the same mind, even Anne, and were urging 
Lucile to hurry to the spot. 

^'You never told me you were going to do this, 
Lucile,” whispered Jessie, reproachfully, as they took 
the lead. 

‘‘What was the use?” asked Lucile, her eyes spark- 
ling. “You and the rest would only have had some 
objection to offer, and besides I wanted to surprise 
you too.” 

“Oh, you’re incorrigible,” sighed Jessie, giving her 
friend up as a “bad job.” 

“What did you call her?” queried Alice, who had 
caught the last word. 

“Oh, she couldn’t say it again, if she tried,” teased 
Evelyn; “she only risked it then because she thought 
no one was listening.” 

“Humph, she’s only jealous,” Jessie retorted. “I 
bet she doesn’t even know what it means.” 

“That reminds me,” said Evelyn with significant 
emphasis, “that we didn’t have that little trial of 
strength down by the river. Shall we go back now 
or wait till we start for home?” this with a fierce 


200 Lucile 

frown that would have made one shudder had it not 
been for the smile lurking underneath. 

“Oh, any old time will do,” said Jessie, carelessly, 
turning the matter aside with an indifferent wave of 
the hand. “The affair is of no consequence.” 

“Oh, very well, we shall see what we shall see,” 
said Evelyn, darkly. 

“We shall,” assented Jessie, with a tone of finality. 

“Do my eyes deceive me,” interrupted Lucile, “or 
do I perceive a short distance ahead the stone which 
marks our journey’s end?” 

“Your eyes are all right, I guess, Lucy,” said Dor- 
othy. “That’s the rock, sure enough.” 

“The very rock,” Jessie agreed; and a few min- 
utes later they were standing on the spot they had oc- 
cupied not so very long ago. 

“Oh, it is beautiful,” murmured Alice, softly. “I 
thought you had exaggerated a little when you told 
me about it, Lucile, but I guess you haven’t — not a 
bit.” 

“I don’t think any one could half do it justice,” said 
Lucile, and then, brightly, “but this is nothing to 
the beauty of fairyland. You’d better hustle a bit, 
too, if you’re going to find it before noon.” 


Too Curious 


201 


However, the girls were so enraptured where they 
were, that it took some time and not a little persuasion 
to pry them loose. Finally, they set off in different 
directions, our girls staying behind at the huge 
rock to watch the lunch and to listen for the yodel 
that would be the signal of discovery. 

‘‘I hope they find it pretty soon,” said Lucile. ‘Tm 
getting awfully hungry.” 

‘‘Your blood be on your own head if you have to 
wait,” said Ruth, who had after persistent urging been 
admitted to the group. “You’re the one who did it all.” 

“Well, I’m willing to suffer for my own folly,” 
said Lucile, cheerfully. 

“Yes, but how about your poor friends who are in 
no way to blame,” asked Jessie, wiping an imaginary 
tear from her eyes. “Can you bear to sit there and 
see them suffer?” 

“No, I can’t,” said Lucile, jumping to her feet as a 
clear call broke the silence. “They’ve found the grotto 
in a hurry.” 

“But that didn’t come from the direction of the 
grotto!” exclaimed Evelyn, excitedly. 

“That’s so, it didn’t,” answered Lucile. “Listen,” 
as the signal came again. 


202 


Lucile 


‘Terhaps they’ve found another one,” she sug- 
gested. ‘'Come on, we might as well find out what 
it is.” 

Quickly they made their way in the direction of the 
sound and in a few minutes came upon Alice. 

“I haven’t found the grotto,” she exclaimed, “but 
I’ve come across the most wonderful cave. Come,” 
and she fairly dragged the bewildered girls along. 

Suddenly she reached out her arm and drew aside 
what seemed to be a tangled mass of vines and foliage, 
disclosing a yawning black hole, evidently the mouth 
of an enormous cave. 

Instinctively the girls drew back a step or two from 
the great hole, and looked from one to the other, won- 
deringly. 

“How did you find it, Alice?” Lucile asked, at last. 

“Why, I was hurrying along looking for the grotto 
and my dress caught on the vines. When I stooped 
over to unfasten it, I gave it a sudden pull and drew 
the vines aside. Then I saw this hole.” 

“Weren’t you scared?” Dorothy questioned, her 
eyes big. 

“I wasn’t at first,” answered Alice. “I was too 
curious to be afraid. Then when I saw it was a big 


Too Curious 203 

cave, I felt kind of creepy and called for you girls. 
And here we are,” she concluded. 

“Suppose it were some old smuggler’s cave,” Lucile 
suggested, “and he’d hidden chests and chests of treas- 
ure in the back of the cave. I wonder who’ll be the 
first to go in after it.” 

“I will,” said Jessie, leaning way over to peer far- 
ther into the black depths of the cave. “But it’s aw- 
fully dark in there,” she added, with a little involun- 
tary shudder. 

By this time the other girls had come up and 
the discovery had to be explained to them all over 
again. 

“Isn’t it great?” said one, when they had finished. 
“Aren’t you going to see what’s in there?” 

“Suppose you go yourself,” Alice retorted. 

“I don’t think anybody would better be too curious 
as long as Miss Howland and Miss Stevens aren’t 
here,” said Lucile. “Miss Howland told us before we 
left not to inquire too deeply into the mysteries of 
the island when she wasn’t with us. I wondered what 
she meant at the time, but it’s easy enough to under- 
stand now.” 

“Well, as long as that’s so, we might as well leave 


204 Lucile 

the cave and set out for fairyland again,” said one 
of the girls. 

‘‘By the way, I think Fve found fairyland,” said 
Anne. “I was just going to call when I heard the sig- 
nal and thought I must be mistaken.” 

“I tell you what you do,” said Lucile. “You go on 
ahead and we will follow more slowly, stopping on 
our way to get the basket. When you call, we’ll come, 
bringing the lunch.” 

“Oh, it makes me hungry just to think of it!” ex- 
claimed Jessie. “What did you girls put in the basket, 
anyway? I hope it was something nice.” 

She was soon reassured on this point, and they hur- 
ried on to the big rock. No sooner had they reached 
it than they heard Anne’s call. 

“There she goes,” cried Evelyn, as she pounced on 
a basket. 

“You talk as if she were an alarm clock,” Lucile 
commented. 

“I didn’t say ‘off she goes,’ but ‘there she goes,’ ” 
replied Evelyn, as they swung off through the woods. 

“Same thing, same thing,” said Jessie. 

“Oh, you’re always pickin’ on me!” wailed Evelyn. 
“I don’t care, Jessie; I’ve got the lunch-basket, and 


Too Curious 205 

you’d better be careful what you say or you won’t 
get any.” 

Jessie’s manner changed as if by magic, and she 
squeezed her erstwhile enemy’s arm, confidentially. 
“Now, you know I was always your best friend, don’t 
you, Evelyn, dear ?” she wheedled. “I never ’would 
say anything against you.” 

“Just put that down in black and white, properly 
signed and witnessed, and I may believe you,” said 
Evelyn, with mock severity. 

Jessie had no time to reply, for just then they 
stepped out of the woods and into the garden spot 
they called their grotto. 

For a time the girls even forgot their ravenous ap- 
petites, either in the delight of taking in the beauty 
of the place for the first time, or, as in the case of 
our girls, in renewing their acquaintance with every 
stone and flower of the place. 

It was Evelyn who brought their thoughts back to 
the commonplace by exclaiming : 

“Oh, girls, I’ll die if we don’t eat soon!” 

“For goodness’ sake, give her something to eat right 
away,” advised Ruth. “She’d be quite a load to carry 
down to the river.” 


206 ' 


Lucile 


The girls needed no second invitation, and in a re- 
markably short time they had all the good things 
spread out on the rock and were gathered eagerly 
around. 

“It was wonderful to see those biscuits disappear,” 
said Anne, as she settled back, contentedly, after doing 
full justice to her share of the dainties. 

“Yes, I don’t seem to feel nearly so hungry as when 
I started,” remarked Jessie, between bites. 

“That’s a joke, girls,” mocked Evelyn. “Why don’t 
you laugh?” 

“That was not intended as a joke,” said Jessie, with 
dignity. “It was merely a statement of fact, and I 
don’t want you to laugh, either.” 

After the last scrap had been cleared away, the girls 
stretched themselves out contentedly on the soft moss 
and talked of various matters, especially of the coming 
canoe race. 

“Oh, I do hope we’ll have a good day for it!” Anne 
exclaimed, for perhaps the tenth time, when Jessie 
interrupted : 

“I wonder where Ruth is,” she said. “She doesn’t 
seem to be anywhere around.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Lucile, a little 


Too Curious 


207 


perplexedly. ‘‘She was here just a little while ago. 
Maybe she's gone down to the river to see if the ca- 
noes are safe. It wouldn't be a very bad idea if we 
should follow her example." 

“It isn't like Ruth to do anything like that without 
letting us know," Jessie objected. 

“I know it isn't, but I don't know where else she 
could have gone. Come on, let's hunt her up," and 
Lucile got up from her soft couch and started for the 
river. Reluctantly the girls followed. 

When they reached the water there was no sign of 
the truant, and the canoes were undisturbed. 

“It seems to me that the water is rougher than it 
was when we crossed," said Lucile, gazing anxiously 
out over the river. “The wind seems to be rising, too. 
If Ruth were here, I'd give the word to start right 
away; but, of course, we'll have to find her first. Come 
on, let's hurry." 

Quickly they made their way back to the grotto, 
their hearts touched with fear, for, as Lucile had said, 
the wind was rising and the sun had gone under a 
cloud. 

They called Ruth's name again and again, but re- 
ceived no answer, except the faintest of faint echoes 


208 Lucile 

that came back to them from the other side of the 
island. 

‘‘Oh, what shall we do, what shall we do Evelyn 
wailed, panic-stricken. 

By this time they had retraced their steps to the 
grotto, calling every few steps, and yet there was no 
sign or sound that would serve as a clue to Ruth’s 
whereabouts. 

“We’ll just have to keep on till we find her,” 
said Lucile, grimly. Then turning to Alice, she 
said: 

“You would better take your girls and start for 
home before the storm breaks. You can just about 
make it, if you travel fast. Of course, we’ll stay and 
face it out.” 

“We’ll stay as long as you have to,” Alice declared, 
stoutly. “I’m sure the girls feel just the same way. 
Don’t you, girls ?” 

There was a hearty, “Well, I guess,” from the girls, 
and Lucile cried : 

“You’re all awfully good. Perhaps we’ll be able to 
do something for you some day.” 

This time the girls separated and started out, 
two by two, in different directions, with orders to 


Too Curious 


209 


search thoroughly, and in case they should not find 
her before then, to return to the grotto in half an 
hour. 

The time was almost up when Lucile, who had 
started with Jessie to scour the woods in the general 
direction of the cave, saw, or fancied she saw, some- 
thing roving among the trees. 

“Look there!'’ she cried, clutching Jessie by the 
arm. “I thought I saw something move. It's so dark 
that I can't be sure, but it looked — come on over and 
find out what it is. Maybe Ruth's there.” 

“But if it's Ruth, why doesn't she answer?'* Jessie 
whispered, trembling. “Oh, Lucy, I don't think we'd 
better go any farther I Let's go back.” 

“You're not afraid, are you?” breathed Lucile, with 
such fierce scorn that Jessie instinctively stiffened. 

“No, I'm not afraid,” she said through chattering 
teeth. “Come on and I'll show you whether I am or 
not,” and pushing past her friend, she rushed forward 
recklessly and broke through the bushes, with Lucile 
close at her heels. 

What she saw made her jump back, almost upset- 
ting Lucile in her astonishment. Another instant, and 
she ran forward again, dragging her friend with her. 


210 


Lucile 


‘‘Ruth r she cried. “Why didn’t you answer when 
we called?” 

“I couldn’t,” sobbed Ruth. “I didn’t want you to 
know I had come here, and I was trying all the time 
to get loose and I — I — couldn’t.” 

It was, indeed, a sorry spectacle that met the girls’ 
astonished eyes. 

After they had finished eating, Ruth had stolen back 
to the cave, lured by curiosity to see what she could 
find, and when she started to return, had been caught 
and held in a thicket of thorn bushes into which she 
had blundered. 

“And then,” she went on in reply to their ques- 
tioning, “I was ashamed to have you find me here, so 
I went on trying to get free. And I’d have done it, 
too,” she wailed, “if it hadn’t been for my hair. I un- 
tangled some of it and tore a lot out. But it all took 
so much time,” and here another sob choked her. 

The girls had an hysterical desire to laugh and cry 
all at once. At any other time the whole thing would 
have appeared ridiculous, and they would have fairly 
shrieked at her predicament. 

But now the sighing of the wind had risen to a howl 
and it was so dark that they could barely distinguish 


Too Curious 


211 


each other, while from where they stood they could 
hear the rush of the water as it pounded on the shore. 

“We haven’t a minute to lose,” said Lucile, as she 
loosened the still imprisoned strands of Ruth’s hair 
and set her free. “Let’s hurry back to the grotto. 
They’re all there before this, probably.” 

As Lucile had surmised, the girls were awaiting 
their coming, anxiously fearful lest the search of these 
two, like their own, should have been in vain. 

When they saw Ruth there was a general shout of 
relief. They had short time for rejoicing, however, 
and after the first little outburst they turned their at- 
tention to the more serious matter of getting back to 
camp. 

“Let’s go down to the river and see that the canoes 
are safe, Lucile suggested. “It’s out of the question to 
start right now, but we can at least haul the canoes 
farther up on the shore. The wind is so strong that 
I’m afraid ” 

Spurred on by some obscure premonition of disas- 
ter, the girls ran down the path, and at last came to 
the inlet where they had fastened the canoes. 

Speechless, they stared, not daring to believe the 
evidence of their eyes. Far out from the island, and 


212 


Lucile 


drifting farther and farther from shore with every 
second, were the canoes, washed away by the rising 
waters, carrying with them their only means of reach- 
ing the opposite shore that day. 

‘They’ve broken loose,” Lucile groaned, despair- 
ingly, and then in an agony of self-reproach: “Oh, 
I ought to have known better ! Why didn’t I haul them 
way up on the bank before we went in search of 
Ruth?” 


CHAPTER XIV 


A TIMELY RESCUE 

‘Tt isn’t your fault more than anybody else,” 
said Jessie, loyally. 

‘Tt isn’t anybody’s fault but mine,” mourned Ruth, 
and it was the first time she had been heard to utter 
a word of self-reproach. ^Tf you hadn’t had to hunt 
for me, all this wouldn’t have happened.” 

‘'Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s all for the best 
that we didn’t start when I thought we should,” said 
Lucile, generously. “It’s mighty rough out there.” 

“But the canoes,” Evelyn wailed. “We’ll never be 
able to get them again.” 

“If they only keep in sight, we’ll be able to get them 
after the storm is over.” 

“How do you suppose you are going to reach 
them?” Anne objected. “Are you going to swim?” 

“Hardly that,” Lucile retorted. “Miss Howland 
and Miss Stevens know where we are, and they’re not 
likely to leave us here to starve.” 


213 


214 


Lucile 


‘‘But they’ll be so worried, ’’said Alice, anxiously. 
“They may think we’ve had an accident. Oh, if there 
were only some way by which we could let them know 
we’re safe!” 

Helplessly the girls looked at the angry waste of 
waters. 

“There’s only one thing we can do,” said Lucile, 
with decision. 

“What’s that?” the girls questioned hopefully, for 
they had great confidence in Lucile’ s ability. 

“Why, we’ll have to station ourselves at different 
points on the island and be on the lookout for any boat 
that may be passing.” 

“It isn’t very likely that there’ll be any on the river 
now, when it’s so rough,” said Anne. 

“Of course, it isn’t likely; but you must admit 
it’s possible,” replied Lucile, a little impatiently. “If 
you have anything better to offer, let’s have it.” 

“I’m sorry I spoke that way,” said Anne, so humbly 
that Lucile looked at her in surprise. She was not yet 
accustomed to that young lady’s quick changes of 
mind. “I suppose your suggestion is the only possible 
one.” 

“Go on, Lucile. Just tell us what to do and we’ll 


A Timely Rescue 215 

do it/’ said Alice. “Fve seen several fishing smacks 
floating around here when we were at camp, and it’s 
barely possible that one may pass.” 

Lucile unfastened the broad red ribbon that kept the 
troublesome but very pretty curls in place and tied it 
securely to a stick. 

''If you girls don’t mind spoiling your ribbons, 
you’d better make a signal of them, as I’m doing,” she 
remarked. 

When they had followed her advice, she sent them 
hurrying to various points with directions to wave 
their sticks frantically if they should see any sign of 
a boat. 

"For,” she said, "we couldn’t make ourselves heard 
above this wind, and our only hope is in catching the 
eye of some belated fisherman. Good luck to us all,” 
she toasted. "Now, let’s scatter.” 

It must be admitted that the girls would have re- 
garded the whole affair in the light of a romantic ad- 
venture if it hadn’t been for the loss of the canoes and 
the anxiety they were causing their leaders. The 
shrieking of the wind through the trees, the roar of 
the waves as they broke upon the shore and the semi- 
darkness — all combined to clothe the island with a 


216 


Lucile 


mantle of mystery. The trees bent and swayed in the 
gale and the vines whipped their faces as they raced 
to their appointed places. 

‘It’s so different,” gasped Jessie, as they halted to 
rest for a second. 

“What do you mean ?” Lucile asked. 

“Oh, all this,” answered Jessie, taking in the whole 
island with a comprehensive wave of the hand. “Just 
a little while ago it was all sunshine; the birds were 
singing, and it was all so peaceful and quiet — and now 
it’s all different ” 

“Yes, it doesn’t seem like the same place at all,” 
Lucile finished, sympathetically. “Oh, I do wish it 
would get lighter. If anybody did happen to be cruis- 
ing around here, they wouldn’t see the signal in this 
light.” 

“I was just thinking of that,” said Jessie. “It 
would be awful if we missed it just because they 
couldn’t see us waving.” 

“Well, we certainly can’t make ourselves seen if we 
stay here,” said Lucile. 

“Sure thing,” assented Jessie, and so they started 
off once more with the determination to do or die. 

When they reached the spot Lucile had allotted to 


A Timely Rescue 217 

herself and Jessie, they searched the river in vain for 
anything to break that monotonous stretch of water. 

“Well, we can’t do anything else just now,” sighed 
Lucile, “so we might as well make ourselves com- 
fortable.” 

“I suppose so,” said Jessie, and then, as a fresh gale 
struck the island with renewed fury that tore branches 
from the protesting trees and dashed them in a thick 
rain upon the ground, she cried : “Oh, Lucy, I believe 
it’s getting worse every minute.” 

“If we could only get word to Miss Howland, I 
wouldn’t care what happened. We’re perfectly safe 
here,” and once more Lucile jumped to her feet and 
searched the river, but with little hope of finding any- 
thing. 

Then suddenly her gaze became fixed, and Jessie 
cried: “What is it, Lucy? What do you see?” 

“Come here, quick,” said Lucile in a tense voice. 
“Am I dreaming, or is that really a boat?” and she 
pointed to a small, dim object that was creeping up 
under the lee of the island. 

“Oh, it is, it is !” Jessie exclaimed, jumping up and 
down in her excitement. “It’s too good to be true. 
And it’s coming right this way, too,” 


218 


Lucile 


‘'Get out your signal, quick,” Lucile commanded. 
“He can’t help seeing it, he’s so near the shore. 
Wave it hard — ^hard,” she cried, and suiting her 
action to the word, she waved her own red ribbon 
frantically. 

For a few breathless moments they thought that 
their signal would pass unnoticed, and what they had 
dreaded in the waning light would really happen. But 
fate was kind to them, and just as they were ready to 
despair the little craft was turned and headed toward 
the shore in their direction. 

As it came nearer, the girls saw that it had only one 
occupant, but who he was or what he looked like they 
were unable to distinguish. However, this made little 
difference to them, for they were so elated at the pros- 
pect of getting back to camp, and perhaps at the same 
time regaining their canoes, that the personality of 
their rescuer was a matter of slight importance. 

Silently they stood on the bank, scarcely able to 
realize that the boat, looking so ghostly and fantastic 
in the weird half-light, was actually coming to take 
them from the island back to their friends. 

“Ahoy there!” came a shout. “You on shore there, 
do you need any help ?” 


A Timely Rescue 219 

“That sounds real, anyway,” whispered Jessie. 
“Answer, Lucy.” 

“All right,” said Lucile, and her voice rang out 
over the water, it’s bell-like clarity rising above the 
roar of the tempest : 

“Ship ahoy!” she cried, making a trumpet of her 
cupped hands. “We are stranded here and need help. 
Will you take us off?” 

“Sure,” came back the answer in a hearty voice 
that made the girls trust its owner, even before they 
saw him. 

The girls waited impatiently, for now that rescue 
was so near at hand they hated to delay making known 
their success to the other girls. Now their rescuer 
had unfastened the dinghy that trailed in the wake 
of the flat-bottomed, clumsy fishing boat and was mak- 
ing his way slowly toward them through the rough 
water. A few minutes more and he had driven his 
queer little craft close to the shore and had scrambled 
on the bank with the tow-line in his hand. Then, for 
the first time, the girls had a look at the owner of the 
pleasant voice. 

Although he was a man well advanced in years and 
his hair was snowy white, his great height and the 


220 Lucile 

breadth of his shoulders belied any suggestion of 
weakness. He emanated strength and gave the im- 
pression of having an immense store of reserve vital- 
ity. The girls could not have explained their feeling, 
but the moment he stepped on the bank all fear and 
anxiety left them like a troubled dream, and they felt 
suddenly and inexplicably safe from all danger. He 
was clothed in ordinary fisherman’s garb, but his per- 
sonality imparted an air of distinction to his clothes, 
as though they had been made for him alone. 

‘Well,” said the hearty voice, with just a note of 
surprise mingled with its geniality, “seems as if I 
happened along just in the nick of time. Thought I’d 
gone clear out o’ my head when I saw that red thing 
wavin’ at me from out the trees. Tell me where 
you’re from and how you came to be on this island 
that I thought nobody ever came to but me,” and he 
stood regarding the girls kindly. 

“Why, we belong to the camp-fire over there,” said 
Lucile, waving her hand in the direction of the camp, 
“and we came over this morning. We had our lunch 
with us, and expected to start back early this after- 
noon.” Here she hesitated, undecided whether or not 
to tell this stranger, however kind he might be, of 




A Timely Rescue 221 

their folly in allowing the canoes to drift away. But 
the newcomer settled the question himself by asking: 

‘‘How did you come over?” 

After that, there was, of course, nothing to do but 
make a clean breast of it, which she did, albeit with 
strong fears of the estimate in which he would hold 
her commonsense. But when he spoke there was no 
trace of anything but sympathy in his voice. 

“And so you rigged up that bit of a signal to attract 
any fool who might be out on the river such a day as 
this ?” he said, and then added : “But surely you were 
safe enough here until the storm was over, and then 
your guardian, as you call her, could have come over 
after you.” 

“Oh, it wasn’t that !” broke in Jessie, quickly. “We 
were afraid Miss Howland would think that we had 
started and met with some accident, especially if one 
of the empty canoes should happen to drift in toward 
shore.” 

“Well, well, we can soon set any fears of that sort 
at rest,” he said, reassuringly. “Where are the rest 
of the young ladies? If you will get them together, 
we can start right away. I guess I can pack you all in 
the boat.” 


222 Lucile 

Nothing loath, Lucile and Jessie made their way 
back to the grotto, calling as they went, and soon the 
girls came running, eager to know what had hap- 
pened. When Lucile broke the news they gave a cheer 
that reached their friend where he stood alone near 
the water’s edge and caused him to smile an indulgent, 
fatherly smile, that was, nevertheless, somewhat 
tinged with sadness. 

A few minutes more and they were gathered about 
him, joyful at the thought of release, but still anxious 
for the recovery of the canoes. 

The stranger introduced himself to the girls as 
Carston Wescott, commonly known, he said, by all 
who knew him at all as “the wanderer.” 

“I think,” he told them, in answer to their queries 
about the canoes — “I think there’s a good chance that 
we’ll find the canoes floating peacefully, after the 
storm is over, somewhere between your two camps. 
The wind was in that direction. Of course, too, it’s 
possible they’ve been blown ashore.” 

So, with renewed hope, the girls one by one were 
lowered into the dingy and rowed to the squat little 
fishing smack. 

When they were all safe on board, “the wanderer” 


A Timely Rescue 223 

set sail in the direction of camp-fire Aloea. The wind 
had died down considerably, but the water was still 
rough enough to make the sail exciting. 

“This would be mighty rough work in one of those 
little canoes of yours. How about it?” their rescuer 
asked, as a great comber bore down on them with a 
rapidity that made them draw a quick breath. 

“I guess so,” gasped Alice, as the sturdy little boat 
plowed through, sending the spray up high on either 
side. 

“Yes, rd much rather be just where I am at pres- 
ent,” Evelyn agreed. 

The passage was swift, and soon the boat drew up 
and slackened sail in front of Miss Stevens’ camp, and 
the girls felt a little twinge of conscience as they saw 
the white, strained faces of their friends who had 
gathered on the bank to greet them. 

Our girls stayed on the smack while the others were 
being conveyed to shore, and when they saw the look 
of immense relief on the welcoming faces they could 
hardly wait to be on their way to their own camp 
and Miss Howland. 

“Two or three canoes did come ashore, a little far- 
ther up,” “the wanderer” announced, as he turned in 


224 


Lucile 


the direction of camp-fire Aloea. *‘They were sure 
that you were all drowned then, although they couldn't 
understand how the canoes came to be right side up 
with the paddles still in," he chuckled. 

The girls overwhelmed him with questions. How 
many canoes had come ashore? At what point? 
What names were on them ? A host of similar queries 
rained upon him, but to none could he give a definite 
reply. 

“Miss Stevens seemed to think I ought to get you 
over to your own camp as soon as possible," he said, 
by way of explanation. “She said your guardian had 
walked all the way to her camp to find out whether 
you might have landed there. She started back half 
an hour ago." 

Silence fell on the girls, and for the time they de- 
sired only one thing — to get to the camp quickly and 
dispel their guardian's fears. 

The journey seemed interminable, but at last they 
rounded the point, and saw, as they had expected, all 
the girls gathered on the shore. But Miss Howland 
was nowhere to be seen. 

At sight of them, the group on the bank cried out 
joyfully and ran to the very edge of the water to wel- 


A Timely Rescue 225 

come them. A moment later and the girls spied their 
guardian, her face still white, but with the strained 
look gone, and in its place an expression of such pro- 
found relief and joy as the girls had never seen 
before. 

The wanderer rowed his charges ashore, and they 
rushed straight into their guardian's waiting arms — 
their dear guardian, who laughed over them and cried 
over them and held them tight, as if she never meant 
to let them go again. 

In the joy of reunion they came very near forget- 
ting the one who was responsible for it all. He was 
just setting out quietly in his dinghy when Lucile broke 
loose and cried : 

“Oh, but Miss Howland, you haven’t met our res- 
cuer, Mr. Wescott! If it hadn’t been for him we 
wouldn’t be here now.” 

Miss Howland went forward with outstretched 
hands and an April smile. 

“You must forgive me,” she said, softly. “I was so 

overjoyed at having my girls back again ” here 

she choked and the man came to her rescue. 

“I’m glad,” he said, hastily, “that I’ve been able to 
save you some hours of anxiety. I live in the little 


226 Lucile 

stone house over the hill, and if I can ever be of any 
help, ril be glad to have you call on me/’ 

‘‘You are very good,” said Miss Howland, grate- 
fully, as she gazed up into the strong face of the man 
towering above her. “I want to thank you 

“Please don’t,” he interrupted, hurriedly. “I don’t 
deserve any,” and with an abrupt nod he turned, 
stepped into his little boat and rowed over to the 
smack. 

“It’s strange,” Miss Howland murmured, as she 
stood in the center of the little group. “He looks so 
much like — what did you say his name was, Lucy?” 
she asked suddenly. 

“Wescott,” answered Lucile. 

Miss Howland started. “Wescott,” she repeated, 
and then sharply : “Are you sure ?” 

“That’s what he said,” Lucile replied, wonderingly. 
“Why?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Miss Howland answered, vaguely, 
and then added, gaily : “Come, let’s have some supper. 
I shouldn’t wonder if you girls were rather hungry 
by this time.” 

“Oh, are we?” cried Jessie. “This wonderful air 
sure does make you ravenous.” 


A Timely Rescue 227 

And out on the water, sailing away toward the 
little house he called home, was Carston Wescott, his 
head resting on his hand and a wistful look in his eyes. 

‘‘Youth, youth,” he murmured. “What a good 
thing it is to be young !” 


CHAPTER XV 


THE PANTHER SPRINGS 

On a bright, sunshiny morning, soon after their 
adventure. Miss Howland and the girls set out to 
pay a visit to their rescuer. Miss Howland had re- 
proached herself many times for neglecting to thank 
him more heartily at the time for the great service he 
had done them, and so had resolved upon this plan 
to relieve her conscience. 

But when they set out, the girls, who were in the 
best of humor and ready for any adventure that 
might come their way, could not help remarking their 
guardian's unusual thoughtfulness and taciturnity, 
and their spirits were somewhat dampened thereby. 

‘T wish I knew what was the matter," Lucile con- 
fided to Jessie. “She hasn't been herself all morning." 

Overhearing the last remark, Marjorie broke in 
with, “All morning! Why, she hasn’t been the same 
since the day of the storm!" 

“I know it," Lucile agreed. “After the council fire 
the other night I couldn't resist the temptation to take 
228 


The Panther Springs 229 

one more look at the river by moonlight, and when 

I stepped out of the tent I saw ” but here she 

paused, instinct preventing her, just in time, from a 
revelation of what was most sacred to her guardian 
and concerned her only. 

‘‘Saw what ?” Evelyn persisted, but Lucile remained 
firm, and the girls soon gave up the attempt to force 
an explanation. 

“I think you’re mean,” Jessie pouted finally. “You 
get our curiosity all roused and then stop short just 
at the interesting part.” 

“Isn’t it sad?” Lucile laughed, and then, to change 
the subject, “I wonder whether Mr. Wescott will be 
home when we get there.” 

“I hope so,” said Jessie. “I can’t wait to see him 
again. He was so good to us that day.” 

And so the subject was changed, but the picture re- 
mained as firmly imprinted on Lucile’s heart and mind 
as it had been that night — the picture of her guardian, 
as she sat with her chin in her hand and her beautiful 
profile silhouetted against the dull red of the few 
gleaming embers, and such a look of wistfulness and 
longing in her face as had made Lucile’s heart go out 
to her in a rush of sympathy. 


230 Lucile 

For a moment Lucile had hesitated whether to go 
forward or retreat, until, with the sudden realization 
that she was spying, however unintentionally, she 
had turned hurriedly and made her way back to 
the tent. 

“Lucile,” Jessie cried, impatiently, “I don’t believe 
you’ve heard a word I’ve been saying. You keep say- 
ing ‘yes’ and ‘no,’ and all the time I can tell your mind 
is miles away. You might listen once in a while.” 

With an effort Lucile shook off the memory, and 
turned her attention to the business at hand. 

“What were you saying?” she asked, contritely, of 
her friend. “If you will say it all over again. I’ll 
promise not to let my mind wander any more.” 

She was as good as her word, and in a few minutes 
they were deep in a discussion of the race. 

“Oh, I’m so glad we got back the canoes,” Evelyn 
cried. “I don’t think I would be able to take any in- 
terest in the race if we hadn’t. I wonder what Judge 
Stillman would say if he knew.” 

“Speaking of Judge Stillman,” Lucile broke in, “I 
wonder when Margaret means to tell him how much 
stronger she is. Why, girls, every day there’s a won- 
derful improvement.” 


The Panther Springs 231 

Here Miss Howland, who had been walking ahead, 
abstractedly, joined in the conversation. 

“Fve been hoping all along,” she said, ‘‘that a sum- 
mer out in the woods would help Margaret, but I 
hardly dared hope, until recently, that the improve- 
ment would be so great. Suppose, just by joining the 
camp-fire, Margaret should entirely recover the use 
of that poor, little crippled limb and be like other 
girls. Wouldn’t you be glad and feel amply repaid 
for any little sacrifice you have made?” and Miss 
Howland regarded the girls with a smile more like 
her own than they had seen for many a day. 

“Glad!” the girls echoed, and their faces became 
illumined, while Lucile cried, joyfully, “Oh, Miss 
Howland, it would be a miracle! Do you suppose 
poor little Margaret could ever really be like other 
girls?” 

“She has every chance in the world,” Miss Howland 
answered. “I wrote to Judge Stillman the other day, 
but I didn’t dare mention any marked improvement. 
It is the child’s dearest wish to surprise him.” 

Before the girls’ imagination arose a picture of 
Judge Stillman and little Margaret, as she showed 
her father that she was, at last, like “other girls.” A 


232 


Lucile 


very pleasant picture, and they were still thinking of 
it when a turn in the road brought them upon the lit- 
tle cabin. 

Miss Howland hesitated for a moment, then raised 
the knocker and let it fall with a great noise on the 
heavy wooden door. No sooner had the noise died 
away than there was the sound of a barking and scur- 
rying, and around the side of the house came a great 
dog, skidding and sliding as he tried to keep his 
balance. 

In alarm the girls jumped back, and when they dis- 
covered the cause of the disturbance they stared in 
amazement. A tiny jack rabbit flew past them like 
the wind and disappeared in his burrow just in time 
to elude the hungry jaws of its pursuer. 

‘‘Come here. Bunk,’’ and they turned to see Mr. 
Wescott round the corner of the house. “Didn’t I 
tell you not to do that again ?” 

When he saw the group he was scarcely less sur- 
prised than they. His face lighted up with genuine 
pleasure and he advanced toward them with out- 
stretched hand. 

“Well, now, I’m glad to see you all,” said he, 
heartily. “I hope Bunk didn’t frighten you much,” 


The Panther Springs 233 

as he saw that they were still breathless at the dog’s 
unexpected appearance. 

Miss Howland answered him pleasantly, but there 
was something strange and unnatural in her manner 
that the girls were at a loss to understand. 

‘We were rather astonished for a moment,” she 
acknowledged, “but as long as he didn’t catch the 
bunny, I’ll forgive him freely.” 

“From which I gather,” the wanderer retorted, 
“that you are not particularly fond of the hunt.” 

“Indeed, I’m not,” answered Miss Howland, with 
spirit. “Every animal’s life has a value to me and 
I consider wanton cruelty to them almost as great 
a crime, and deserving of almost as great a punish- 
ment as one committed against humanity. But this 
is certainly not what I came to say,” she inter- 
rupted herself, smiling winningly up at the admiring 
old trapper. “The girls and I have come to offer 
you the thanks and gratitude that we were so un- 
able to express the night you brought them back 
to me.” 

The girls watched with interest to see the effect of 
this speech upon the stranger. All they saw was a 
slight deepening of his ruddy color and with a depreca- 


234 


Lucile 


tory wave of the hand he dismissed his part in the ad- 
venture as not worthy of consideration. 

^‘It was nothing,” he declared. ‘‘In fact, I have 
more reason to be grateful to you than you to me,” 
he went on, with a twinkle in his eye. “To have had 
the power of relieving your anxiety was one of the 
greatest pleasures I have ever known.” 

Miss Howland thanked him, laughingly, then cor- 
dially invited him and his old housekeeper, of whom 
she had heard through Jim, and who, according to Mr. 
Wescott, had taken advantage of his absence to ^ay in 
provisions for the following week, to spend an even- 
ing with them as soon as possible around the camp- 
fire. 

While this conversation was in progress the girls 
made friends with the big dog whom his master called 
“Bunk.” 

“That’s a crazy name,” Jessie criticized. “I won- 
der how he ever came to name him ‘Bunk.’ ” 

“It just fits you though, doesn’t it, doggie,” said 
Lucile, stroking him gently. “I wonder how you and 
Jed would get along?” 

“We’ll probably have a chance to find that out,” 
said Evelyn, “if Mr. Wescott comes to the camp. 


The Panther Springs 235 

Where is Jed, anyway?’’ she asked, looking around. 
‘^I’m sure he was with us when we started.” 

“Probably changed his mind and went back again,” 
suggested Lucile. “The dog’s not over fond of the 
heat and it’s not what you could call a cold day.” 

“Come, girls,” said Miss Howland, at last, “Mr. 
Wescott has consented to be with us this evening and 
he’s promised to tell us some animal stories.” 

The girls’ eyes sparkled. “True stories?” they cried, 
in unison. 

“Yes, I can vouch for their being true,” said Mr. 
Wescott, with a smile. “I was on the spot many 
times myself.” 

The girls could only utter an incredulous “oh,” for 
they were too greatly awed by the prospect of having 
real animal tales related first hand by a real trapper, 
to say more or even thank him. However, as it hap- 
pened, they had done the best thing to make him feel 
welcome at their camp that they could have done, for 
their silence was more to him than the greatest flow 
of eloquence. 

When at last they did find their tongues he was be- 
sieged with a shower of questions that fairly took his 
breath away. 


236 


Lucile 


^‘Do you know any tiger stories?’' they cried. “Oh, 
please tell us one about grizzlies, and lions — lions are 
the best,” until Miss Howland stopped them. 

“Perhaps Mr. Wescott will be kind enough to an- 
swer some of your questions when he comes to-night, 
but it would take him from now until sunset to answer 
all you have asked,” she said. 

So, reluctantly, and with many expressions of good 
will on both sides, they parted. Bunk seemed bent 
on following them, but when his master whistled he 
deserted, shamefully, without one look behind. They 
could still hear him barking when they were far ad- 
vanced on the way to camp. 

Dinner was over, and the girls, seated around the 
blazing fire, were eagerly awaiting their visitors. 
Showers of sparks rose from the crackling mass of 
dry timber and fled away among the dark leaves 
and branches, like brilliant fireflies. The moon 
shone silver bright and the woods beyond the 
circle of fire caught its pale radiance, and spread 
it over trees and shrubs and flowers, touching them 
with silver. 

Again, as on that other night, the stars came down 
to touch the rivers, and through all the roar of fire the 


The Panther Springs 237 

girls could distinguish the soft splash of water as the 
ripples lapped gently upon the bank. 

‘‘What a night!’’ Jessie whispered; “it almost seems 
as if something were going to happen.” 

“Something is going to happen,” said Margaret. 
“At least it is, if Mr. Wescott doesn’t change his 
mind.” 

“Oh, I don’t mean that,” said Jessie, dreamily. “I 
mean something unusual — something that doesn’t hap- 
pen every day.” 

“Oh, come down to earth, Jessie,” Margaret ad- 
vised, “I don’t think you know what you expect your- 
self.” 

“I don’t expect anything,” Jessie insisted. “I just 
feel as if something were going to happen.” 

“So you said before,” remarked Evelyn, sweetly. 
“Let us hope you won’t be disappointed.” 

Jessie looked threatening and Lucile hastened to 
change the subject. “Suppose,” she said, “that Jed 
here should take it into his head to be jealous of Bunk 
and try to put him out.” 

At mention of his name, Jed, who had been lying 
near Lucile with his head in her lap, rose, shook him- 
self, and yawned prodigiously. 


238 


Lucile 


‘‘In such a case, I shouldn’t wonder if Jed would 
get the worst of it,” said Dorothy. “From your de- 
scription of him. Bunk must be at least three times as 
large as Jed.” 

As she spoke the hair on the dog’s back began to 
bristle and he growled, menacingly. 

“Oh, they must be coming,” cried Lucile, and she 
seized Jed by the collar. “What shall I do with the 
dog. Miss Howland?” 

“Leave him alone,” advised Miss Howland. “I 
don’t think he will have much desire to fight when he 
sees the size of his would-be adversary.” 

Lucile did as she was told and followed her guar- 
dian to the clearing to welcome their visitors. In a 
moment they arrived, Mr. Wescott helping his old 
housekeeper over the rough places and Bunk, walking 
decorously at his master’s side. Evidently, the dog 
had had a severe talking to that afternoon and had 
resolved to conduct himself as became a gentle- 
man. 

The housekeeper, an ancient aunt of the trapper, 
acknowledged the introduction with a quaint courtesy. 
In spite of her quaint ways, or, perhaps, because of 
them. Miss Howland and Lucile took a sincere liking 


The Panther Springs 239 

to the old lady from the first minute that made them 
very anxious to make her feel at home. 

They had scarcely had time to meet their guests 
and turn with them toward the group of girls, who 
had risen and were waiting for them, when Jed trotted 
forward. With interest and not a little anxiety they 
watched the meeting. Jed, his tail in the air and ears 
cocked, inquiringly, marched up to the larger dog, who 
acknowledged his coming with a low growl. 

“Bunk,’^ said his master, sharply, “take care!’’ 

At once the big dog subsided and, looking up at his 
master, wagged his tail meekly, as if in apology for 
the slip, and from that time on he and Jed became fast 
friends. 

Laughingly, they watched the two dogs, little and 
big, walk off together amicably and seat themselves by 
the fire. 

“Well, that’s settled,” said Mr. Wescott. “I was 
rather doubtful about bringing Bunk along, but he 
looked so reproachful when I said he had to stay 
home that I relented. Of course he promised faith- 
fully to be good.” 

“He seems to be keeping his promise very well,” 
laughed Miss Howland. “I only hope he doesn’t break 


240 Lucile 

it. If he should, Tm afraid there wouldn’t be very 
much of Jed left.” 

‘‘Oh, he won’t forget while I’m around,” said Mr. 
Wescott. “I can promise that, at least.” 

At last the introductions were over and they all 
resumed their places around the fire, Mr. Wescott 
and the old lady occupying the seats of honor, either 
side of Miss Howland. 

Jessie and Evelyn put more fuel on the fire and it 
blazed up right merrily, sending its ruddy light far 
into the forest and dispelling for a moment the flick- 
ering shadows that hovered there. 

Impatiently, the girls waited while the usual for- 
malities were observed — talk of the country, the 
weather and the scenery, topics in which they had 
not the slightest interest — when there came a welcome 
interruption in the shape of Jim. He had been cor- 
dially invited by Miss Howland, but had not been sure 
he could get there. 

“Oh, Jim,” cried Lucile, “I’m so glad you came — 
we were beginning to think you couldn’t.” 

Jim smiled and, upon Miss Howland’s invitation, 
approached within the circle of fire and seated himself 
between Lucile and the old trapper. When Miss How- 


The Panther Springs 241 

land started to introduce him, Mr. Wescott said, ‘‘Oh, 
Jim and I know each other well.” 

From the grateful glance Jim shot at Mr. Wescott, 
Miss Howland gathered that the latter had not over- 
estimated their friendship, but she could not help won- 
dering why Jim had not mentioned it to her before. 

After a few more minutes of casual conversation, 
Jessie could stand the strain no longer and broke in 
with, “Oh, Mr. Wescott, won’t you tell us that story? 
We can’t wait any longer.” 

Miss Howland reproved her with a glance, although 
she could not suppress a smile of amusement. 

“Perhaps Mr. Wescott isn’t ready to tell us a story, 
now, Jessie,” she suggested, looking with an apologetic 
smile toward the trapper. 

“Oh, I’m ready any time to tell a story,” said the 
latter with cheery good humor. “What shall it be, 
lions, tigers, panthers ” 

“Oh, panthers,” Lucile broke in eagerly. “I always 
love to hear about them.” 

“Panthers it shall be then,” said Mr. Wescott, “that 
is, provided everybody is willing.” 

By the manner in which they gathered close about 
the fire, and by the tense look in their faces, he evi- 


242 


Lucile 


dently concluded that his young hearers were not only 
willing but eager, and immediately continued : 

“Well, ril tell you one that particularly interested 
me at the time. May I smoke he broke off to ask. 
“I never can tell a story the right way without a pipe. 
Thank you. Well it happened one winter when I was 
up North. It had been a mighty hard winter. Many 
of the trappers’ families were in a powerful bad way, 
what with the freezing cold and snow. And there was 

one woman, a mighty fine woman she was, too ” 

here he broke off and took two or three meditative 
puffs at his pipe, while the girls waited with ill-con- 
cealed impatience. “As I was saying, she was a 
mighty good woman, never thinking of her own ills 
and troubles but always trying to help somebody else 
with theirs. Well, one night a boy comes to her from 
one of the neighborin’ cabins, and he says, all tremblin’ 
and shakin’, and pleadin’ in a way that wrings her 
heart, and makes her mad to comfort him, ‘Please, 
ma’am, oh, my mother’s been taken pow’ful bad, 
ma’am, and she says as won’t you come over right 
away ?’ ” 

The girls felt the tears in their eyes, and Margaret 
said in a whisper, “Did she die ?” 


The Panther Springs 243 

‘‘No, she didn’t die,” the trapper answered. “It was 
all on account of the good woman, for she packed up 
all the healin’ herbs she had, and followed the poor, 
shiverin’ boy through the snow, and it was quite a 
pow’ful journey, too, to the cabin where the sick wo- 
man lay. 

“When, as she opened the door, a man rose from the 
side of the bed where he had been kneeling, and came 
toward her, his face was so white and drawn that she 
wept at sight of it; but when she remembered all that 
must be done, and all that depended on her, she dashed 
away the tears and went to work. 

“Half an hour later, she went into the room where 
she had left the man and his son, and found them fast 
asleep with their tired heads on the bare table. With- 
out rousing them, she threw her coat about her, and 
left the house. 

“It was bright and the moon was shining like to- 
night,” the girls instinctively glanced up, “only the 
moon somehow seemed brighter there. As I said be- 
fore, it was a pow’ful stretch between her cabin and 
the one she had left, and her path lay mostly through 
the woods. 

“It was late now, and though not easily frightened. 


244 


Lucile 


she began to feel scary. The shadows flitted by her 
eerily, and the wind swept through the trees with a 
sound that made her shudder and draw her wrap more 
closely about her. 

‘‘Once her dress caught, and as she stooped to free 
it she glanced fearsomely over her shoulder. She saw 
nothing there but the flickering shadows. Once more 
she hurried on, faster and faster, till she found herself 
almost running over the snow. 

“ ‘There's nothing to be afraid of,’ she cried, pas- 
sionately, and then, as if to belie her words, there came 
to her the sound of something pad-paddin’ over the 
snow.” 

The girls felt the hair rise on their heads, and in- 
stinctively pressed close together. Save for the crackle 
of the fire and the deep voice of the trapper, not a 
sound was heard. Jessie seized Evelyn’s hand and 
squeezed it as the deep voice continued. 

“For a moment she was too terrified to move, and 
she pressed her hand over her heart to still its beating, 
looking around her all the while like a wild thing. 
Now the sound had stopped, and there was nothing to 
break the silence but the sighing of the wind. 

“ ‘Twan’t nothin',' she whispered, gaspingly, ‘I most 


The Panther Springs 245 

likely jest imagined it/ and with terror tugging at her 
heart she took a step forward. 

“Again came the sound, sharp, distinct, unmistak- 
able, even above the wind, and she whirled fiercely 
to meet it. 

“With a cry of horror she shrank back against the 
tree and stared fascinated at two gleaming wicked 
eyes, and behind them, crouched ready to spring, the 
shadowy outline of a giant panther.” 

Jed chose this moment to fancy he saw something 
suspicious in the bushes and uttered a low growl. The 
girls jumped, and Ruth cried terrified, “What’s that? 
Oh, what is it?” 

“Only Jed,” said Miss Howland, soothingly, al- 
though it must be admitted she had started with the 
rest. “Go on, Mr. Wescott, we’fl see he doesn’t in- 
terrupt again.” 

The girls, somewhat reassured, crowded up closer, 
and listened eagerly, though with many an apprehen- 
sive glance toward the shadows beyond. 

The old trapper’s pipe had gone out, but so absorbed 
was he in the story that he noticed neither this nor the 
interruption, but went on : 

“With a moan she turned and stumbled on through 


246 


Lucile 


the snow, blinded, desperate, and always hearing that 
‘pad-pad’ behind as the brute stole after, only await- 
ing as she knew, his moment to spring. 

“As she ran her fright gave way to an overwhelm- 
ing, passionate anger at the relentless, merciless fate 
that was pursuing her. 

“She turned fiercely, and with a sudden motion 
picked up a large branch that lay at her feet. 

“ ‘I won’t die,” she cried, flourishing the branch 
frantically before the brute’s bewildered eyes. ‘Come 
on, come on,’ she screamed, ‘come on. I’m ready. I’ll 
try my hand at the killin’.’ 

“Abashed, astonished, the panther drew back for a 
second, but growled menacingly. 

“ ‘Go on,’ she cried again, fiercely, but the brute’s 
minute of astonishment had passed, and, snarling, he 
crouched for a spring. 

“Then on the instant an inspiration came to her. 
Raising shaking, trembling hands to Heaven, she 
began to sing, quaveringly at first, but as she saw the 
miracle, her voice rose higher and stronger, even above 
the moaning of the wind. 

“The panther’s tense body relaxed, the savage gleam 
left his eyes, and he sat motionless, fascinated. It was 


The Panther Springs 247 

as if the music wove a spell about him which he could 
not break. 

“On, on, she sang, not daring to stop, for hours, it 
seemed to her, for ages, until a break in her voice and 
a huskiness in her throat, made her realize that the 
end could not be long delayed. 

“For some minutes more she kept on bravely, des- 
perately, praying for succor, but she knew her one 
hope lay in the passing of some belated trapper. Now 
she could scarcely force the sound through dry, 
cracked lips, and the panther, growing restless, emitted 
a low, savage growl.’’ 

The girls gasped and shivered convulsively. “Go 
on, go on,” they urged breathlessly. 

The trapper bent forward, and with grave delibera- 
tion, relighted his pipe while the girls waited impa- 
tiently. 

“Well,” he continued, “for a few awful seconds she 
sang on, then her voice broke, she failed utterly. ‘Oh, 
my God, my God !’ she cried hoarsely, flinging herself 
forward, ‘only You can help me now.’ 

“With a terrific roar the great beast sprang — 

“Crack ! — a flash — a sharp report — and, with a yell 
of agony the panther leaped into the air, and fell at 


248 Lucile 

the feet of the fainting woman. One convulsive shud- 
der and he lay still.” 

For a moment there was silence, while the trapper 
gazed steadily into the fire, and the girls scarcely dared 
to breathe. 

^‘Oh !” cried Margaret, softly, her eyes agleam with 
excitement, ‘Vhat happened then?” 

“Yes, go on, please,” the girls breathed, and Jessie 
added, “Was the panther really dead?” 

The trapper drew a long sigh and, withdrawing his 
gaze from the fire, answered, quietly: 

“Yes, the panther was dead, and it’s a miracle the 
woman had not died in his stead. One minute more 
or less would have seen a terrible tragedy.” 

“But who fired the shot?” Lucile insisted. 

“The trapper whose wife she had saved,” was the 
answer. “Soon after she had left the cabin the trap- 
per roused from his sleep. Finding her gone, and 
realizing her danger, he had hurried out to overtake 
her.” 

“Oh, then he was the one,” cried Lucile in greatest 
excitement. 

“Did you know him?” asked Jessie. 

“I knew him very well,” said Mr. Wescott. 


The Panther Springs 249 

Lucile eyed him suspiciously, and was about to ask 
another question, when Ruth called out, “But what 
happened to the woman, Mr. Wescott? You didn’t 
tell us that.” 

“She fainted,” he answered, laconically. “The man 
carried her to the house and then went for help. I 
have the panther skin yet.” 

He paused. 

“You,” Lucile cried. “Oh, I knew it. You were the 
man all along.” 

Mr. Wescott smiled, but not being able to deny the 
accusation, he very wisely confessed. 

“That was wonderful,” said Jessie. “Won’t you 
tell us another?” 

“Next time,” he promised. “But as Aunt Deborah 
has fallen asleep, I’m afraid it’s a very strong hint 
for us to be going home.” 

Aunt Deborah awoke, gazed about her with a 
look that challenged any one to say that she had 
been asleep, and drew her shawl more closely about 
her. 

“Carston’s stories interest you young ladies more 
than they do me,” she remarked, dryly. “Probably 
you’ll stay awake all night imagining you hear yells 


250 Lucile 

and growls after listenin’ to one of his hair-raisin’ 
tales.” 

‘‘She’s right there,” Lucile whispered to Jessie in 
conviction. 

Mr. Wescott helped the old lady to her feet, and 
soon after, with the thanks of the girls ringing in their 
ears, they started for home. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” asked Margaret as they went 
out. 

Mr. Wescott laughed pleasantly. “Not very,” he 
answered. “We’re proof against wild animals, even 
if there were any in these parts.” 

“I hope he is right about there not being any pan- 
thers and tigers around,” Jessie confided to Lucile 
as a few minutes later they tumbled into bed. “While 
he was telling the story I distinctly saw something 
big with creepy-looking eyes gleaming at me from 
that clump of bushes just beyond the mess tent.” 

“Probably Bunk,” Lucile replied, sleepily. 


CHAPTER XVI 


HEARTS UNITED 

‘‘And the race is just one week off,” said Jessie. 

“Yes, we just have one more to practise,” Lucile 
agreed, “and at the end of that time we’ll have to show 
how much good it’s done us.” 

“You don’t think we can possibly lose, do you, 
Lucy?” asked her friend, alarmed at what she took 
to be an element of doubt in Lucy’s tone. 

“No, of course not,” said Lucile. “If we think so 
much about losing we surely will, so the only thing to 
do is to say we are going to win, and then go ahead 
and do our best.” 

This conversation between the two girls took place 
the morning after Mr. Wescott had been to the camp 
and told them the blood-curdling panther story. 

The morning was fine and fair and unusually 
mild for the time of year. In company with Jed they 
had sallied forth for an early morning walk. 

“Do you know, I was thinking,” said Lucile after 


251 


252 


Lucile 


a pause, “that this is the first chance we have had to 
talk together alone since we came up here.” 

“I know, and it seems mighty good, too,” said 
Jessie, snuggling up lovingly to her friend. “So 
much has happened, and the days have been so 
crowded that we seem somehow to have grown 
apart.” 

“Yes, and it won’t do at all,” said Lucile, decidedly. 
“Let’s see how quickly we can grow back again. First 
of all, tell me about your mother. Does she expect 
to come up for the race?” 

So engrossed were they in the delightful process of 
“growing back again” that they found themselves far 
advanced upon the road before they realized how late 
it was getting. 

“Guess we’d better go back,” said Lucile, looking 
about her, “we’ve never been so far in this direction 
before. I’m getting hungry, too. It seems to me I’m 
always hungry these days.” 

“So am I,” said Jessie; “just now I could eat the 
side of a house.” 

“Do you remember that you said that very same 
thing over a year ago?” Lucile asked, and then as 
Jessie slowly shook her head, “Oh, yes, you did, that 


Hearts United 


253 

morning we went for a walk before breakfast when 
we were just planning the camp-fire.” 

‘'Oh, I know what you mean now,” cried Jessie; 
“the time we went up to see little Kenneth and he cried 
because we wouldn’t take him over to see the gray 
kitten.” 

They laughed gaily at the memory. “He had a gray 
kitten of his own a couple of months later,” said Lu- 
cille, “and he was awfully happy over it until it got 
to be an old story and wouldn’t consent to be lugged 
around by the neck any more — oh!” she cried, and 
then stopped, her eyes fixed upon a young man who 
had come along the path by the brook and stopped 
before them in the roadway. 

“I beg your pardon,” he said, taking off his straw 
hat and mopping his forehead with a large silk hand- 
kerchief, “sorry if I startled you, but I have been a 
long time getting nowhere, so I’ve come to the con- 
clusion that I must be lost.” 

He smiled with such engaging frankness that the 
girls were reassured and Lucile even found voice 
enough to murmur something about “being glad to 
help if she could.” 

“Thanks,” said he instantly, “shouldn’t be surprised 


254 


Lucile 


if you could. I am looking for a Mr. Wescott who 
lives near here. They have given me so many direc- 
tions that Tve lost my bearings. If you can tell me 
where he lives Fll be greatly obliged.” 

‘'Oh, yes, that’s easy,” said Lucile, eagerly, “we are 
going right near there, and we’ll point it out to you 
if you wish.” 

“You’re awfully kind,” said the young man, warm- 
ly. “Am I mistaken in thinking you are camp-fire 
girls? Everybody is talking about you down in the 
village.” 

“We do belong to the camp-fire Aloea,” Lucile ad- 
mitted, as they turned back together, “but I didn’t 
know everybody was talking about us.” 

“Guess you haven’t been down to the village lately,” 
he said, with an inquiring look. 

Lucile shook her head. “Thought not,” he nodded. 
“From what I heard I imagine they’ll turn out to a 
man to see this famous race of yours. When is it 
coming off, anyway?” 

The stranger’s manner was so easy and good-nat- 
ured that the girls soon found themselves conversing 
freely with him. When they came to the path leading 
to Wescott’s cabin the yoimg man thanked them heart- 


Hearts United 


255 


ily and the girls saw him go with genuine regret, and 
not a little curiosity. 

“I wonder who he is,’’ said Jessie, as they started 
on. 

‘1 wish I knew,” Lucile answered, ^‘he’s so pleas- 
ant.” 

''And good looking,” Jessie broke in, with a mis- 
chievous laugh. 

‘‘I was just going to say that,” retorted Lucile, un- 
ruffled. ‘‘I wonder what he wants with Mr. Wescott ?” 

Jessie was seized with sudden inspiration. “Per- 
haps,” she said, excitedly, “perhaps he is one of those 
trappers Mr. Wescott told us about.” 

“Huh,” Lucile was skeptical, “he looks more like 
a man just out of college to me. He has ‘city’ written 
all over him.” 

“Well, maybe,” said Jessie, a little crestfallen, “just 
the same, you’ve often said yourself not to go by ap- 
pearances. Maybe he’s traveling incognito.” 

“Oh, Jessie, Jessie,” cried Lucile, despairingly, 
“you’re still thinking of those old novels you used to 
devour by the cartload.” 

“Well, he looks just like all the pictures of the 
heroes in those same novels,” she defended. “I’ll show 


256 Lucile 

you some of the pictures when we get home, if you 
don't believe me.” 

“Oh, I believe you,” said Lucile, so readily that 
Jessie looked at her in surprise, “he couldn’t very well 
be much handsomer. I do wish Miss Howland could 
see him.” 

“If he’s a friend of Mr. Wescott we’ll probably see 
him often enough — maybe too often for Miss How- 
land, if she happens to take a dislike to him.” 

“How could she?'' cried Lucile; then, as she met 
Jessie’s gleeful eyes she stopped, colored, and finally 
remarked, to cover her confusion, “don’t be a goose, 
Jessie.” 

“I’ll try not to be,” said Jessie, so meekly that Lu- 
cile could not help laughing with her. 

“Do you think we’d better tell the girls?” Jessie 
wondered, as they neared the camp, “they’d probably 
laugh.” 

“^o doubt of it,” said Lucile, “we’ll tell Miss How- 
land, of course, and if she says anything to the girls 
about it they can’t think we made it up.” 

A few minutes more and they came out upon the 
clearing that commanded a view of the camp. No 
one was in sight at the moment but Miss Howland, 


Hearts United 257 

who was talking to Mr. Wescott and Jim, who had 
been grudgingly granted a hard-earned holiday, about 
a huge fish they had just caught. 

“Guess the girls must have gone scouting,’’ Jessie 
surmised, and then for the second time within the 
space of thirty minutes they were startled by the good- 
looking stranger. 

He pushed through the bushes, looked about him, 
and then went straight toward Mr. Wescott, who at 
sight of him had started violently and passed his hand 
over his eyes as if to clear his vision. 

“Dad!” the younger man cried, and his voice was 
low with emotion, “I couldn’t stay away any longer. 
I had to come.” 

Mr. Wescott grasped the outstretched hand in both 
his own as if he could never let it go. “You’ve come 
back,” he repeated slowly, like one in a dream, “after 
all these years.” 

“Are you sorry, dad?” said the boy, unsteadily. 

“I am glad,” he said, simply, but there was that in 
his voice that said more than many words, and his 
eyes were misty. 

Then suddenly Mr. Wescott seemed to realize that 
they were not alone, and turning, saw Miss Howland, 


258 


Lucile 


who had walked away a few paces, and stood looking 
out over the water. He called to her and she turned 
back. 

Then the girls saw their guardian’s face. From 
where they stood they could see but not be seen, and 
they were so bewildered by the amazing turn affairs 
had taken that they forgot for a moment that they 
were eavesdropping. 

‘'Look at Miss Howland,” Jessie whispered, ex- 
citedly. ‘T wonder what’s the matter.” 

And then it happened. As she turned, the stranger 
caught sight of her face, and started as if he had seen 
a ghost. 

“Helen !” he cried, “oh, my Helen !” 

Then a wonderful thing happened. 

Straight as a homing dove she went to him, and he 
caught her in his arms and held her fast. “You’ve 
come to me,” she murmured, “I knew you would at 
last 

Lucile caught Jessie’s arm and drew her away. 
“Come,” she said, and there was a hint of tears in her 
voice, “we shouldn’t have stayed so long.” 

Jessie followed her in a daze. For a short distance 
they retraced their steps, and then sat down on a 


Hearts United 259 

grassy knoll until such time as they dared to return 
to camp. 

“And to think I was wishing Miss Howland might 
see him,” cried Lucile, and then putting her arms 
around her friend, she whispered, “Oh, Jessie dear, 

Fm sorry I laughed at your love stories ” 

“There’s not one of them half so good as this,” 
cried Jessie, exultingly; “you can’t deny it.” 

“No, I can’t,” Lucile admitted, happily. 


CHAPTER XVII 


‘‘like other girls'' 

“I can't seem to get used to it," Jessie was saying 
to Evelyn, as they watched their beloved guardian 
talking earnestly to her fiance. “I never thought it 
could really happen outside of a story book." 

“Yes, and to think it is the same man that every- 
body thought she was going to marry back in Bur- 
leigh. Don't you remember? I wonder what hap- 
pened, anyway." 

“Why, it seems they quarreled about old Mr. Wes- 
cott. Miss Howland thought the son ought to be 
reconciled to his father, and he refused — so they just 
agreed to disagree." 

“But what made him leave his father in the first 
place," persisted Evelyn. “Did they have a quarrel, 
too?" 

“Why, Jim was telling Lucile about it the other 
day," said Jessie. “He knew about it all the time, 
for he knew Mr. Wescott before we came, and the 
260 


“Like Other Girls” 261 

old man confided in him when he wouldn’t talk to 
anybody else. But it would take too long to tell about 
it now, and besides it’s almost time for practice.” 

“I know it is, but you’ll have time for that. Go 
ahead, please.” 

“All right,” said Jessie, “I’ll tell you all I can, any- 
way. You know from what Mr. Wescott has told us 
that he had lived almost all his life in the wilderness 
and he’d set his heart on having his boy do the same.” 

“That’s a natural enough way to feel,” commented 
Evelyn. 

“If you want me to finish, you’d better not inter- 
rupt,” Jessie threatened. 

“All right. Forgive me this time and I won’t do 
it again.” 

“You’d better not. Well, when he grew up of 
course he had different notions and he begged his 
father to take him to the city and let him learn a pro- 
fession.” 

“Where was the money coming from?” asked Eve- 
lyn, practically. 

“Oh, Mr. Wescott has piles of money. He made it 
selling skins and things ” 

“Especially things,” mocked Evelyn. 


262 


Lucile 


“Now I won’t tell you any more,” Jessie began, but 
Evelyn caught her arm, imploringly. 

“Go on, quick,” she begged, “Miss Howland’s com- 
ing now and we won’t have another chance. Please.” 

And seeing that Miss Howland was indeed taking 
leave of her lover, Jessie relented. 

“Well, the usual thing happened. Mr. Wescott re- 
fused, and when the son was just sixteen he ran away 
to New York. He walked most of the way, too.” 

“And he’s just come back now?” Evelyn asked. 

“So it seems, only this time he didn’t walk. Isn’t 
she sweet?” — this last referred to Miss Howland — 
“and doesn’t she look happy?” 

“If I didn’t love her so much,” Evelyn sighed, “I’d 
almost envy her.” 

At this moment their guardian was saying good-by 
to the insistent Mr. Jack Wescott, who had been urg- 
ing her to take a walk with him through the woods. 

“Can’t do it, however much I’d like to,” she cried, 
merrily, looking back over her shoulder at him so tan- 
talizingly that he instinctively took a step toward her. 
Then, thinking better of it, he jammed his hands deep 
in his pockets, savagely, and stood gazing after her 
with a funny mixture of joy and chagrin. 


“Like Other Girls” 263 

“You know my time belongs to the girls yet,” she 
added. 

“Come, girls,” she summoned. “If s time, and we 
want to do our very best to-day. Remember if s our 
last practice.” 

They could never explain how it happened, but they 
had scarcely pulled out from the shore before they 
went all to pieces as a racing machine. Lucile, who 
sat in the bow and acted as coxswain, tried hard to 
keep them steady, but it was no use. The strokes 
were jerky and uneven, and before they had gone half 
the distance some of the girls gave out entirely. 

Lucile was anxious, but not disheartened, for Miss 
Howland had foreseen the possibility of this, and 
warned her to be on the lookout for it. 

“If s very likely that they will be nervous with the 
race so near at hand,” she had said, “and in that case, 
the only wise thing to do is to land as soon as possible. 
It will do more harm than good to try to force them 
just now.” 

Lucile remembered the advice and promptly acted 
on it. Weary and dispirited, the girls landed a few 
moments later to find Miss Howland waiting for them 
as though nothing had happened. 


264 


Lucile 


“Why, girls,” she cried, merrily, “why the long 
faces? I didn't expect you to do brilliantly to-day.” 

The girls brightened a little at this, but their faces 
clouded again with apprehension when Marjorie cried : 

“Yes, but if we don’t do better than this to-mor- 
row, we’ll surely lose.” 

“But you are going to do better to-morrow. You 
are going to do better to-morrow than you ever have 
done before. To-morrow you’re going to win/* and 
Miss Howland brought out this last word with such 
a ringing confidence that the girls took heart of hope 
once more. Still, the morning’s experience had left a 
feeling of depression, and no matter how hard they 
tried to cast it off, Marjorie’s words echoed in their 
ears : “If we don’t do any better than this to-morrow, 
we’ll surely lose.” 

Miss Howland had consented to let Margaret stay 
with old Aunt Deborah until their return. The child 
was in a state of wild excitement, for Judge Stillman 
was expected with the rest, and she counted on going 
to him for the first time without the aid of a crutch. 

“Daddy will be so glad,” she had cried over and 
over again to the sympathetic girls. “Oh, we’ll be the 
very happiest people in the world.’^ 


Like Other Girls” 


265 


The girls themselves were very eager to see the 
meeting, for although they had had a proof of Judge 
Stillman’s generosity in his gift of the canoes, they 
could not entirely shake off the impression they had 
grown up with that he was very hard and cynical. It 
was hard to change that opinion. 

When the girls had trooped off, leaving the camp 
deserted, young Wescott chose the opportunity to have 

a confidential talk with Jim. 

‘‘Jim,” he began, “my father has told me about 
your interest in everything mechanical. Have you 
ever had an opportunity to study different kinds of 
machines at first hand?” 

“No, sir,” answered Jim, eagerly, Tve never had 
much of a chance to study anything big, but I’ve often 
taken apart and put together the reapers and binders 
and such things on the farm.” 

“But you are interested and would study hard if 
you had the chance?” the young man inquired. 

“Oh, yes,” Jim replied, hardly daring to believe 
what the question implied. 

“Then it’s settled,” said young Wescott, with an air 
of finality. “My father and I have decided to back 
you, partly because we like you and partly as a good 


266 Lucile 

business investment/' How well he knew what would 
satisfy the boy’s pride and enable him to accept the 
offer without a loss of his self-respect. Before Jim 
could speak, he went on: ‘‘We want you to go back 
with us when we leave — that will be day after to- 
morrow, if you are willing.” 

Willing! Willing! The boy stood dazed with the 
immensity of his good fortune. 

“You mean,” he said, slowly, “you mean that you 
and your father are willing to take me, a poor boy 
without a cent to his name and one as hasn’t had no 
education to speak of ” 

“And a great big heart and a mind that can easily 
be trained, and a decided ability that may amount to a 
genius for engineering,” young Wescott interrupted. 
“Don’t forget to mention everything on both sides of 
the ledger.” 

“Then you mean it, you really mean it?” cried the 
boy, at last believing, “you’re going to take me to New 
York and give me a chance to make good.” 

“Exactly.” 

“And you really think it’s in me — that I can make 
good?” 

“I’m sure of it.” 


“Like Other Girls” 267 

‘^Oh, Mr. Wescott, I want to thank you” — here he 
choked and lost his voice altogether. 

‘‘Don't try/' said his benefactor with assumed gruff- 
ness. “Besides,” he added lightly, “I'm not the one 
to be thanked. We’re backing you as an investment. 
You see how sure we are. Come, shake hands, Jim. 
From now on we’re going to be friends. What do 
you say?” 

Jim grasped the extended hand eagerly. 

“I’ll do my best to deserve your goodness, sir,” he 
said, and his steady blue eyes glowed with resolution, 
and undying gratitude. 

“That's all we want,” said Wescott, and then, as a 
murmur of faraway voices came to him, he linked his 
arm in Jim's and started for the woods. 

“We’d better make a getaway before we’re over- 
whelmed, Jim,” he grinned. 

Gradually the sounds grew more distinct, until one 
could distinguish the high, excited treble of the girls 
from the deeper tones of their elders. Then they burst 
in upon the camp in groups of twos and threes and 
half dozens, the parents trying to look twenty differ- 
ent ways at once as their impatient offspring pointed 
out places of interest. 


268 Lucile 

^‘What’s this I hear about Miss Howland?” asked 
Mr. Payton with a smile. 

Lucile told him everything, and had hardly finished 
when she descried Miss Howland herself coming to- 
ward them. 

“Pm so glad you could come, Mr. Payton,” she said, 
cordially. ‘‘I suppose Lucile has shown you everything 
by this time, hasn't she?” 

“Very nearly,” Mr. Payton admitted, and then with 
the frank friendliness that characterized the man, he 
added: “I have heard of your happiness, Miss How- 
land, and I want to tell you how very glad I am.” 

“Thank you,” blushed Miss Howland, showing the 
dimples that were scarcely ever absent these days. 
“You are all so kind that it makes me wish I were 
more deserving of the good wishes showered upon 
me.” 

“Pm sure you’re more than worthy of all that this 
old world can give,” said Mr. Payton, gallantly. 

“Huh,” said Lucile, “the world hasn’t made any- 
thing good enough for her yet.” 

They laughed, and Miss Howland said, merrily: 

“Pm afraid my girls are prejudiced, Mr. Payton. 
They give me a reputation that it’s hard to live up to. 


“Like Other Girls” 


269 


Judge Stillman/' she called, as the latter passed near 
them, “will you come over here a moment? I don’t 
believe you’ve met Mr. Payton.” 

The Judge acknowledged the introduction courte- 
ously, but Lucile noticed that his attention was wan- 
dering and his eyes roamed restlessly about as though 
in search of some one. 

Miss Howland divined his thought and said, quickly : 
“I’ve sent for Margaret, Judge, and she’ll be here di- 
rectly. We left her in charge of Aunt Deborah,” she 
went on to explain. “She’s Mr. Wescott’s house- 
keeper, and a better or kindlier soul never lived.” 

She continued chatting easily, but it was easy to see 
that beyond the first sentence Judge Stillman heard 
nothing of what she said, although he did try to keep 
his eyes steadily on her face. 

He had just answered “No” to her question of 
“How long do you intend to stay,” when there was a 
stir at the other end of the camp. 

“There she comes now!” exclaimed Miss Howland. 

At the words the deep lines of care seemed to be 
smoothed magically from his face and he actually 
smiled. The girls could not remember when they had 
seen him smile before, and they remembered wonder- 


270 


Lucile 


ing afterward why he did not do it oftener — it was 
such a nice smile and changed his face so wonderfully. 

As Margaret came forward, the people fell away, 
making a pathway for her. When she caught sight of 
the Judge she ran to him and threw her arms around 
his neck. 

‘‘Oh, daddy, daddy,^’ she cried, “I don’t need a 
crutch any more. I can walk. I’m just like other 
girls.” 

The Judge swept her up in his arms, without a 
word — his little girl who was “just like other girls” — 
and bent his massive head over hers. There are emo- 
tions in the world too deep for anything but tears. 

All the girls were crying from sheer happiness and 
sympathy with their little comrade, and the older wo- 
men of the party looked on with brimming eyes. The 
men turned away, more moved than they cared to own, 
and examined minutely the first thing within reach. 
Jessie declared afterward that she had seen her father 
pick up a trowel, carefully wipe the mud from it with 
his silk handkerchief and put it in his pocket. He de- 
nied the accusation with some warmth, until she pulled 
the trowel from his pocket, thus clinching his guilt. 

“But it’s such a surprise,” one of the ladies tremu- 


“Like Other Girls” 271 

lously remarked to Lucile. “No one had a notion that 
the child had so improved. I suppose it v/as the ex- 
ercise that did it.’' 

“Yes,” agreed Lucile, “that and this glorious stimu- 
lating air.” 

But no one seemed to realize what Miss Howland 
and the Judge himself implicitly believed — that the 
loving companionship of young girls of her own age 
had been the chief cause of the wonderful cure. 

It was a merry party that ranged the camp that 
afternoon. They spent a great part of the time on the 
river listening with keen interest while the girls re- 
lated their experiences and pointed out the course of 
the race that was to take place to-morrow. Only when 
the sun was close to the horizon did they turn the boats 
toward shore. 

Miss Howland had considered inviting them all 
to a camp supper, but on second thought concluded 
that to be unwise. The girls were already excited 
and wound up to a pitch far beyond normal — this she 
decided as she glanced from Lucile’s flushed face to 
Jessie, who had three times tried to tie a knot in the 
tow-line and failed — and to prolong the excitement 
would be ruinous to their hopes for the morrow. 


272 


Lucile 


‘‘No/’ she said, half aloud, “what they most need 
is rest and quiet and I must see that they get it.” 

At this point Lucile broke in on her meditations 
with a joyful cry of : 

“Phil ! I didn’t think it was time for you yet.” 

Another moment and she was caught in a pair of 
strong arms and hugged with such ferocity that she 
cried out in a half strangled voice: 

“You don’t need to quite choke me, you old bear.” 

The “old bear” held her from him and gazed fondly 
and with a certain amount of pardonable pride at the 
radiant face and mass of tangled curls above. 

“You’re prettier than I ever thought you’d be, 
Lucy;” and this from a brother was praise indeed. 

“How could she help it with such a brother?” said 
a sly voice behind him, and he turned quickly to con- 
front Jessie. 

“Hello, Jess, how are you?” he cried with genuine 
pleasure in his voice, and then added in a tone that 
frankly betrayed his admiration : “It’s plain to be seen 
that the wild and woolly wilderness agrees with you, 
too.” 

“And Jessie deserves all the more credit because 
she hasn’t a brother to catch her good looks from,” 


“Like Other Girls” 273 

said Miss Howland, gaily, as she came up with Mr. 
Payton. 

‘That’s so,” admitted Phil, gravely. 

“That’s not fair,” Mr. Payton protested, “for even 
admitting that my son could serve as a model to his 
doting sister, which, being intimately acquainted with 
the young gentleman, I am much inclined to doubt,” 
here Jessie chuckled audibly, and Phil gave her a re- 
proachful glance, “even admitting that, we must re- 
member that all the time this improvement was taking 
place she was separated from him by a hundred miles 
or more.” 

“Thanks, Dad,” said Lucile in mock gratitude. “I 
have one friend, anyway.” 

“Yes, and here comes another,” cried Miss How- 
land as Jed dodged among them and precipitated him- 
self into Lucile’s arms. Once there, he wriggled 
around until he could get his head over her shoulder 
and wagged his tail hard. 

“Where did you get the dog?” asked Phil, all ani- 
mation, as he, like Lucile, was a great lover of animals. 

“Oh, he really belongs to Jim,” Lucile explained, 
“but he’s let us have him for the summer.” 

“Who’s Jim?” Phil inquired. 


274 Lucile 

“Oh, he’s a native of these parts,” answered Jessie. 
“He was chasing the dog when I. last saw him.” 

“There he is over there,” Lucile cried, seizing 
Phil’s arm and dragging him where he could have a 
clear view of the upper end of the carhp, “do you see 
him over back — no, not that way, silly — see, over 
there, leaning against that big tree.” 

“Oh, the brick-top,” said Phil, inelegantly. 

“I suppose you think you’re setting me a good ex- 
ample now,” retorted Lucile, scathingly. “I fail to 
see any ‘brick-top,’ but if by any chance you mean 
that nice-looking boy with red hair, he’s the one I 
mean. But really, Phil,” and her voice became more 
serious, “he’s an awfully nice boy and I want you to 
be good to him.” 

“How am I going to be good to him if I don’t know 
him?” 

“There is some reason in that,” Jessie remarked, in- 
nocently, and Phil shot her a suspicious glance. “I 
suppose there’s no possible way of getting acquainted.” 

“Oh, stop this foolishness,” laughed Lucile. “Come 
on, you two. I really think you will like him, Phil, 
when you do know him,'' and leaving their guardian 
and Mr. Payton talking to a party that had just landed 


“Like Other Girls” 275 

and were stretching their cramped muscles, tne three 
young folks made their way over to where Jim was 
standing absorbed in viewing these people who had 
come straight from the wonderful city that he had 
only seen in his dreams. 

Lucile was right in her prophecy, for after the first 
stiffness was over and Jim had conquered his shyness 
to some extent, they were soon plunged in an animated 
conversation, Jim asking questions about that great 
outside world with all the eagerness of his starved 
boy nature and Phil cordially responding. They be- 
came so engrossed in Phil’s description of the last 
“World’s Series” that the girls slipped away, un- 
noticed. 

Late that night Lucile and Jessie lay on their cots, 
wide-eyed and sleepless. 

“Jessie,” whispered Lucile, “are you awake?” 

“Yes, I’ve been awake for the last hour. I keep 
thinking about this morning and I just can’t get to 
sleep. What’s kept you awake ?” 

“Same thing I guess,” confessed Lucile. “It’s aw- 
fully silly, because weVe just got to win and Miss 
Howland says that trouble like this morning’s often 


276 Lucile 

happens before a race or a play or anything like that. 
It’s just a sort of stage fright.” 

“I know she did,” said Jessie, somewhat comforted. 
‘‘Anyway, there’s no use worrying. I remember Miss 
Howland said, too, that if we thought we were going 
to lose we were much more likely to than if we made 
up our mind that there was no chance of losing.” 

“That’s right,” said Lucile, stifling a yawn. “And 
now, I almost feel as if I could get to sleep.” 

“So do I,” said Jessie. “Let’s.” 

Outside all was clear and calm and beautiful. The 
soft wind whipped the water into tiny ripples and set 
the trees to whispering. Somewhere, far off in the 
depths of the woods, a whippoorwill began its plaintive 
call. Still farther off, an owl set free by darkness 
sent his weird mournful cry shuddering through the 
night, and little birds, hearing, nestled closer to their 
mates or shifted their position fearfully. 

And upon all, the moon looked down and smiled. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


VICTORY ! 

Slowly the sun rose on this day, this one day, the 
day when they “couldn’t lose.” As the first rays of 
light tinged the horizon, night sounds vanished as if 
by magic, replaced by sleepy twitterings, and the tun- 
ing up of bird musicians for a busy day. Swiftly the 
shadows melted before the golden onrush of sunbeams 
that dashed along the water, and played hide-and-seek 
among the dew-drenched flowers. In the madness 
of their joy at being free once more, they rushed 
into the tents where the girls were still sleeping, 
touched them gently with fairy fingers, whispering 
“Awake! awake! the beautiful day is come, and such 
a day !” 

Lucile sat up and rubbed her eyes sleepily. Then 
suddenly the far-away look faded, and she threw back 
the covers with a jerk. Lightly she ran over to where 
Jessie lay and shook her none too lightly. 

“Jessie, Jessie,” she cried, “wake up! — it’s come, 
it’s come!” 


277 


278 


Lucile 


“Let go my shoulder/^ muttered Jessie, still half in 
dreamland. 

“Oh, wake up,’' cried Lucile, impatiently, ignoring 
the request. “I tell you it’s come.” 

“What’s come?” asked Jessie, awake and indignant. 
“You might wake me up more gently. I dreamed I 
was on a cannibal island, and the chief was dragging 
me along to dump me into the cauldron. Then you 
come along and half kill me over again.” 

Lucile laughed, gaily. “You ought to be glad I res- 
cued you,” she said, “instead of getting cross,” and 
she put one arm around her friend’s neck and adminis- 
tered a little impulsive hug by way of reconciliation. 

Jessie hugged back with fervor. “I don’t care what 
you do,” she cried. “But what did you mean by shout- 
ing, Tt’s here,’ or ‘He’s come,’ or something like that, 
huh?” 

“I said, ‘it’s come,’ and by that I meant the race” 
said Lucy. 

At mention of the magic word Jessie shot from her 
cot like an arrow from a bow. 

“Oh, the race, the race, the race!” she cried, and 
catching Lucile about the waist, whirled her around 
wildly. 


Victory! 279 

“Lucy, why didn't you wake me before,” and not 
heeding Lucile's “I tried to,” went on. “Come on, 
let's go and wake up all the girls.” 

“We have already,” said Lucile, as the girls began 
to pour from their tents into the open. 

“Jessie, darling,” she said, turning to her friend a 
face so serious that the other sobered instantly, “this 
will probably be the last chance we'll have to say a 
word alone till after the race. Let’s make up our 
minds now that whatever happens we will behave like 
true camp-fire girls.” 

“We will,” said Jessie, and between the two it was 
a solemn compact. 

Then followed a morning of busy preparation and 
excitement. The day before Miss Howland had con- 
sulted with the girls’ parents and it had been agreed 
that they should break camp the day of the race, and 
all take the night train for home. The girls had pro- 
tested, but when Miss Howland had pointed out the 
advantage of a day at home before their school work 
began once more, they had reluctantly resigned them- 
selves to their fate. After all, there was this one more 
day, and that the most wonderful day of the summer. 
The race was still to be won. 


280 


Lucile 


In spite of all Miss Howland could do to quiet them, 
the girls were keyed to the breaking point. There 
was scarcely one of ‘ them who remembered clearly 
afterward anything they did that morning. The tasks 
assigned to them were accomplished automatically. It 
seemed as if their very hearts beat out with each 
rhythmic pulsation the one word "‘race,” ‘Tace,” 
‘Tace.’’ They never knew how that long morning 
passed, but it did at last, and it was time to don their 
suits. 

*‘Oh, Jessie, Tm scared, aren’t you?” said Evelyn, 
as they passed on their way to Miss Howland’s rendez- 
vous, “I’m so scared I’m trembling — look,” and she 
held out an arm that refused to be steady. 

“No, I’m not nervous,” denied Jessie, through 
clenched teeth ; “at least. I’m trying not to be.” 

“Listen, I can hear something along the road,” 
cried Evelyn, gripping Jessie’s arm in a grasp that 
ordinarily would have made her cry out with pain; 
“they’re coming, oh, Jessie, they’re coming.” 

“Well, let them come,” said Jessie, with a weak at- 
tempt at levity, and in another moment they were 
standing lined up before their guardian. 

Miss Howland’s face was very white, but there was 


Victory! 281 

a cheerful smile on her lips that Reassured the faintest 
heart. Now she was speaking, apd the girls drank in 
the words eagerly. 

“There are just a few things I want to speak to you 
about,’’ she said, and her clear voice sent a thrill to 
the hearts of the girls who loved her. “You all know 
the course of the race, and the rules that govern it, but 
I'm going over them once more.” 

The girls stirred, and crowded forward. 

“In the first place, you are to paddle over to Bleach- 
er’s Point, where Mr. Wescott will be stationed. The 
opposing crew may be waiting for you— but if they 
are not, you must wait there quietly until they come. 
When you have both reached your appointed places, 
raise your paddles in salute. Then turn the canoe’s 
bow outward and the stern in a line with the stake 
driven in to mark your starting point, and paddle out 
until your bow grazes Mr. Wescott’s boat, which will 
be stationed fifty feet from shore. Mr. Wescott will 
then withdraw his canoe, and you will wait with 
raised paddles for the starting signal. That’s all, I 
think, although remember, girls, two things,” and she 
bent forward, her eyes shining and her voice vibrant 
with earnestness, while every word burnt itself into 


282 Lucile 

their souls. “Keep your eyes on Lucile, and conserve 
your strength. 

“And now, my girls,” she cried, drawing herself 
up to her full height, while her eyes flashed fire, “prove 
you are worthy of the camp-fire cause and keep one 
word and one only before you always — victory!” 

“Aloea!” cried Lucile, “three cheers for our camp- 
fire!” 

“Aloea, Aloea, Aloea!” The woods rang with the 
shout, and scarcely had it died, when Jessie cried, 
“And now, three cheers for Aloea’ s ruler, our guar- 
dian.” 

With all the love of their hearts they gave the 
cheer, and Miss Howland, looking down upon their 
flushed faces and shining eyes, felt that they could not 
lose. 

“Thanks, my girls,” she cried; “and now, it’s time 
to be off. Good luck, and what is better, a firm hand 
and a steady nerve.” 

And now they had pulled off from shore and each 
stroke of the paddles brought them nearer to the start- 
ing point. 

The course of the race extended over two miles. 
It was by no means an easy one, for in that distance 


Victory ! 283 

they had to round two islands, circling the first island 
to the left and the other to the right, in the shape of a 
scroll. At the farther end of the course a rope had 
been stretched between a boat that lay fifty yards out 
from the shore to a tree at the edge of the water so 
that the rope lay loosely on the surface. At this point 
Mr. Stevens, Miss Stevens’ father, stood ready to sig- 
nal the end of the race. Here also were gathered the 
friends and relatives of the contestants, while Judge 
Stillman, Mr. Payton, and two gentlemen from the op- 
posing side had been selected to act as judges. They 
were talking excitedly, and not a little anxiously, for 
all knew how each girl had set her heart on winning. 
Needless to say, Phil was there, and although he tried 
his best to appear unconcerned and indifferent, he only ^ 
succeeded in making his nervousness more marked. 

“Oh, I was only thinking how bad Lucy would feel 
if she lost,” he remarked in answer to his father’s ques- 
tion, “Why so restless, Phil?”; “I should think you’d 
feel a little uneasy yourself,” he added, reproachfully. 

“Oh, I do,” Mr. Payton answered, adding slyly, 
“the only difference being, that I have one to be anx- 
ious for, while you have two.” 

Phil flushed. “Aw, cut it out, dad, I thought you 


284 Lucile 

had more sense/’ Although the answer was not in the 
least respectful, Mr. Payton only favored his son with 
a sly wink, and changed the subject. 

‘The whole country seems to have turned out to see 
the race,” he said. 

Phil nodded. “Yes, the whole river front is 
crowded as far as you can see. I guess they don’t 
have a chance to see anything like this very often.” 

On the other side of the river the girls had come to 
the rendezvous. The others had not reached the point 
yet, and our girls had a few seconds to look about 
them. The banks were crowded, as Phil had said, 
with country people out for a holiday. As the girls 
passed them, they pressed forward to see the camp- 
fire girls, about whom they had heard so much. 

To the girls all these people were merely a mass of 
blurred faces, while the one figure that stood out clear- 
ly was the memory of their guardian as they had left 
her. To them she was the incarnation of that word, 
“victory,” that she had said to keep ever before them, 
and each one in her heart of hearts had determined 
that day to win. 

They had not long to wait, and as the others came 
up they raised their paddles high in salute, then, turn- 


Victory! 285 

ing, paddled out until their bow touched young Wes- 
cott’s boat. Slowly Wescott drew away, and they 
rested, with paddles poised above the calm water. 
With hearts wildly beating, and scarcely daring to 
breathe, they waited for the shot that would release 
their taut muscles, and send their canoes darting 
through the water. Not ten yards away was the other 
canoe, like them, awaiting the signal. 

Bang I With a single movement, the paddles struck 
the water and the canoes sprang forward like horses 
at the touch of the spur. Slowly at first, with long 
even strokes, they pulled together side by side and 
bow to bow. Then, almost imperceptibly, Alice quick- 
ened her stroke and drew ahead. Again she changed 
the stroke, and the gap became more noticeable. Fas- 
ter and faster the “Arrow'' drew away, until it was 
half a length ahead. 

Lucile quickened her stroke slightly and for a long 
time the relative positions remained the same. On, 
on, with a strong, steady swing that sent the canoe 
without a jerk or jar. It was the stroke that our girls 
had practised so faithfully and they knew that they 
could keep it up indefinitely. 

Now they were nearing the first island. Their 


286 


Liicile 


rivals had an advantage here, for theirs was the inside 
course. Faster and faster went the “Arrow/’ but Lu- 
cile held the same steady stroke, even when the 
“Arrow” shot ahead, putting a full length between 
them. 

The girls began to feel nervous. The “Arrow” was 
far ahead now and with the added advantage how 
could they hope to overtake them. Suddenly they felt 
a wild desire to quicken the stroke, regardless of con- 
sequences, and close in upon the enemy that was wid- 
ening the distance between them with every passing 
second. Oh, why didn’t Lucy hurry? Was she crazy 
to sit there and see the others win without even a 
struggle? Then came the memory of Miss Howland, 
and she had said : “Keep your eyes on Lucile and con- 
serve your strength.” 

Now the “Arrow” had rounded the island and was 
pulling hard. Lucile quickened the stroke, and the 
canoe shot ahead. The distance lessened a trifle, but 
Alice urged her crew on and the “Arrow” darted for- 
ward like a wild thing. Lucile could see that her 
rivals were using the last ounce of strength they pos- 
sessed, and she smiled to herself. 

But on shore they didn’t understand. Many 


Victory! 287 

thought the race already won, and the ‘‘Arrow’s” 
friends were rejoicing openly. 

Phil looked gloomy and wrathful. 

“What do they want to gloat for before they’ve 
won?” he muttered, and then, impatiently, “Why 
doesn’t Lucy speed up some? It’s all right to go slow 
in the beginning, but it seems to me she is overdo- 
ing it.” 

“There she goes!” cried Mr. Payton, “Look, now 
she’s speeding up !” 

The spectators leaned forward eagerly. The pre- 
mature joy of the opposing party died away, and a 
cheer went up from Aloea’s supporters that reached 
the girls and gave them new incentive. 

They had come to the second island now, and at 
that point both canoes were hidden from view. When 
they had once rounded it there would be only half a 
mile left to the finish, and it seemed far too short a 
distance to make up such a lead. 

The “Arrow” shot into view and had made an 
eighth of a mile toward the goal before the “Aloea” 
appeared. 

“Oh, they can’t do it now, dad,” groaned Phil; 
“poor Lucy.” 


288 


Lucile 


“Don't you or anybody else pity Lucy yet," com- 
manded Mr. Payton; “what kind of a sport are you, 
anyway? Don’t you see that Lucy has let the others 
tire themselves out, and that her crew is as fresh as 
ever? Now just watch, and don’t talk.’’ 

It was something to watch. In spite of the condi- 
tion of the “Arrow" crew, Lucile wondered if, after 
all, she had waited too long for the final spurt. 

“We’ve got to do it now," she muttered grimly, 
and the girls felt that the time had come. 

“Now, girls!" she cried, “steady!" 

The canoe jumped forward, and then the real race 
began, a race that those stolid country folk never for- 
got. 

All the girls’ pent-up energy was in the sharp 
strokes that cut the water like a knife and sent the 
canoe forward at incredible speed. For the first time 
since the race began, the girls felt exhilarated, invigo- 
rated, and confidence returned with a rush. The “Ar- 
row" had covered half the distance to the line, but the 
“Aloea" was gaining with the rapidity of lightning. 

Alice heard them coming and desperately urged her 
fagged crew on. “Girls, we’ve got to make it," she 
cried; “we’re almost there now.’’ 


Victory I 289 

Gallantly they summoned what little strength re- 
mained for a last effort. The canoe shot forward, 
and the watchers held their breath. They were very 
close now. The “Aloea’’ had crept up until her bow 
nosed the stern of the ‘‘Arrow.’' 

“We must, we must,” cried Lucile, over and over 
to herself. 

On, on they came, racing like demons, the water 
boiling away from the bows, and the girls bent nearly 
double, putting all their strength into a last spurt that 
meant victory or defeat. 

The “Arrow” still led by half a length, but the 
“Aloea” was creeping steadily up. Twenty yards to 
go, and half a length to make up — Phil dug his nails 
into the palms of his hands, unknowing. 

“Go it, Lucy,” he cried, “go it I” 

Lucile straightened in her seat, and a thrill went 
through the girls behind her. 

It was the “slant” stroke, one she had herself dis- 
covered and taught them. It worked like magic. The 
canoe seemed imbued with new life. In three power- 
ful strokes it forged ahead. A shot rang out, and a 
great shout went up. 

The “Aloea” had won by a nose! 


290 


Lucile 


For a few yards the momentum carried the canoes 
forward, but the girls soon stopped, and, turning, pad- 
died slowly back to shore. In a moment the canoes 
were surrounded by a crowd of excited, gesticulating 
figures, and the girls were lifted to the bank. And 
then Lucile and her crew were hugged, and shaken 
hands with, and congratulated, until it was a wonder 
that they ever came out of it alive. 

Above all. Miss Howland's words of praise rang 
sweetest in their ears : 

‘‘It was great, girls. You earned the victory." 

Phil was just telling Lucile what a “brick" she 
was, when there was a movement in the crowd that 
surrounded her, and Alice pushed her way through. 

“I want to offer you congratulations in behalf of 
myself and crew," said she, and added with a smile, 
“we are proud to surrender to so worthy a victor. 
You beat us fairly, that we know, although we can’t 
understand just how you did it." 

“It was a hard race," said Lucile, accepting the prof- 
fered hand, and shaking it warmly. “I thought you 
had us, up to the last minute. Perhaps we’ll have a 
race some other time that’ll square things." 

“Perhaps," said Alice, and went away with a smile 


Victory ! 291 

on her lips — a smile that, covering so sore a heart, 
stamped her as a thoroughbred. 

The crowd was enthusiastic about the race, pro- 
nouncing it ‘‘the durndest, exciting thing they ever 
saw,” and gladly offered to give the girls and their 
friends a lift back along the road to camp. 

This they were glad to accept, for after the excite- 
ment of the day they found themselves very tired. 
Although there was scant room for so large a party 
they managed to squeeze in some way, and forgot 
tired, aching muscles in glad exultation at the out- 
come of the race. 

‘‘Oh, Lucy, you’re a wonder!” Jessie cried, “there 
was one time when I thought you didn’t know what 
you were doing, but I ought to have known better.” 

“And to see that canoe drawing away from us,” 
said Marjorie, leaning forward excitedly at the recol- 
lection. “Oh, Lucy> I felt as if I just had to quicken 
the stroke.” 

“If you had ” said Lucile, threateningly. 

“It would have been all up with you I’m thinking,” 
Phil finished, from his place, further up in the wagon. 
“Say, Lucy, where did you get that stroke, anyway, 
that last one?” 


292 


Lucile 


“Oh, I just picked it up one day when we were 
practising,” said Lucile. “It seemed good then, and it 
certainly didn’t fail us to-day.” 

“It sure didn’t,” called out Margaret, from the 
wagon alongside, where she sat with her hand in 
Judge Stillman’s. “Lucy, I do believe we won because 
of the camp-fire. If the others had been camp-fire 
girls, they’d have had a better chance to win.” 

“Hurrah for the camp-fire,” cried Phil, boisterously, 
and the others took up the shout. 

“Just the same,” Mr. Payton was saying to Judge 
Stillman, “the camp-fire is a capital thing for our 
girls.” 

“You’re right,” agreed the Judge, smiling fondly 
into the upturned face of his little daughter, whom the 
camp-fire had made like other girls. “It has given me 
the one thing I wanted most.” 

As he spoke, the camp, or what had been the camp, 
came in view. Only one small tent had been left stand- 
ing, in which the girls were to change to their travel- 
ing dress. 

Lightly the girls jumped from the wagon as it 
stopped at the clearing and ran toward the tent. 

“Hurry,” cried Miss Howland. “We only have half 


Victory! 293 

an hour to catch the train. We’re later than we 
thought.” 

‘‘All right,” called out Lucile. “We’ll be with you 
in a minute.” 

“Yes you will,” scoffed Phil. 

Inside the tent there was the wildest scramble. 

“Jessie, you’ve got my suit,” cried Evelyn. 

“I have not,” denied Jessie. “Don’t you suppose I 
know my own when I see it?” 

“Well then, who has got it ?” she cried, desperately. 

“Oh, Evelyn, stop making such a noise. Here it 
is,” and Dorothy held up the missing article, which 
was sadly missed. 

“Huh. I suppose you were sitting on it,” said Eve- 
lyn, ungratefully. 

“That’s all I get — oh, Marjorie, stop stepping on 
my foot,” she groaned. 

“Jessie, hand over that hat behind you, will you?” 
called Lucile. “I thought you were trying to hide 
something.” 

“I’m not trying to hide anything but a guilty con- 
science,” retorted Jessie as she tied up her shoe. 

“Why the guilty conscience?” queried Marjorie. 
“What awful thing have you been up to now?” 


294 


Lucile 


“Up to her old tricks again/' said Evelyn, and Jes- 
sie threw her a malicious glance. 

“Go on, tell us about it, Jessie," urged Lucile. “A 
frank confession, you know." 

“I ate some candy Alice Hague gave me the other 
day. I couldn't resist the temptation. Oh, and it was 
awful stuff," making a wry face at the recollection. 

“Glad of it ; serves you right," said Dorothy. 

“Come on, girls. I'm ready," broke in Lucile. 
“We'll have to hurry or they'll go without us," and 
throwing her arm about Margaret, she led the way out 
of the tent. 

As they stepped out upon the grass, Jim came hur- 
rying past them and stopped for a moment with a 
sheepish grin on his face. For a moment they hardly 
recognized him. 

Young Wescott had rigged him out in a new suit, 
well-fitting shoes, and — wonder of wonders — a new 
straw hat. 

The girls all crowded around him, and Lucile cried : 
“Jim, I hardly knew you. Oh, you do look fine." 

At her sincere praise, a pleased look came into his 
eyes and he smiled happily. 

“Jed is going, too," he said, simply. 


Victory! 295 

“And here he is to speak for himself!’' exclaimed 
Jessie as Jed came up to them, barking wildly. “Come 
here, Jeddie, old boy.” 

While the girls had been dressing Mr. Payton and 
Judge Stillman had engaged one of the farm wagons 
to take their luggage to the station. Another was 
reserved for themselves and it was arranged that the 
canoes should be sent on later. Everything had been 
packed except the one tent, and while this last was be- 
ing added to the load the girls went down to the 
water’s edge. 

Their gaze traveled out over the course of the race 
and again they thrilled with jubilation at their suc- 
cess. Their hearts went out especially in gratitude to 
their guardian, who had made it all possible. And as 
if in harmony with their thought, her voice just then 
called to them from the clearing: 

“Everything ready, girls. Come along.” 

Hurriedly they gathered up their things and were 
ready to start. 

“It’s a shame we have to go off in such a rush,” 
said Margaret. “It seems as though we must be com- 
ing right back again.” 

Lucile and Jessie, Phil and Jim, with Jed bringing 
up the rear, were the last to leave the woods. 


296 


Lucile 


“Oh, I don’t want to go home,” wailed Lucile, as 
they stopped for a last look, “I want to stay here for- 
ever and ever.” 

“Well, you will stay here till ii :io if we miss this 
train,” said her unromantic brother. “I can always 
fix up a race for you at home if you get pining for 
one.” 

“We don’t need any after to-day,” said Lucile, slip- 
ping her arm through Jessie’s. “Oh, Jessie, wasn’t it 
glorious ?” 

Mr. Payton’s voice reached them from the roadway. 

“Where are the rest?” 

“We’re coming,” they answered. 

3^ sK ^ >1: 

The shadows fell thick and fast over the deserted 
camp and once more the forest prepared for slumber. 
The stars came out one by one and saw their beauty 
reflected in the clear depths of the river. The whis- 
pering winds, the ripples breaking on the shore seemed 
to miss the glint of the fire through the trees and 
to waft good wishes after the departing visitors. While 
in the distance sounded the faint echo of the whistle, 
as the train, with its radiantly happy party of camp- 
fire girls, sped away through the night. 





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